


The Hunters and the Hunted

by Long_Time_QT



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Human Castiel, Hunter Castiel, M/M, No Zeke, Post Season 8, Post season 3a, Slow Build, Superwolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Long_Time_QT/pseuds/Long_Time_QT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Sam, and newly-human Castiel follow a trail of missing persons to Beacon Hills, where they soon learn things aren't exactly what they seem. Meanwhile, Derek is back and works with the pack to find out what's hunting these people without being hunted themselves. Tensions rise, tempers flare, and soon two opposing forces must work together to save each other.</p><p>Or the one where shit hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You Are Now In Beacon Hills"

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't include Zeke because he didn't fit in well with my plot, and some Teen Wolf characters won't be making an appearance due to how difficult it would be to incorporate everyone. I tried to stick to canon as best I could, but some compromises will need to be made. Please read and comment, I'd love to hear what you have to say, good or bad :)

 

A lonely forested road, darkness interrupted by nothing but the stars and a single set of headlights roving down just above the speed limit, shuddering with every bump and uneven surface. No sound but the purr of the car’s engine and the faint tones of AC/DC broke the silence of the night. Within the car, however, it was anything but silent as the driver and two passengers spoke in raised voices.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why are we following a trail if we’re unsure if our quarry is a monster or not?”

“I really doubt this thing is human. Serial killers tend to have commonality between victims, but this thing is more random. Whatever it is, it’s hunting with no discrimination and each time it stops, more people go missing than the last time.”

“And anyway, at the rate this thing is going I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole of Southern California is gone by next Tuesday. Better to be safe than sorry.”

A pause.

“In that case I’m glad you found me when you did.”

“Yea, me too. Us too.”

A wind picked up and rustled the leaves of the trees as the ’67 Impala passed a white sign with blue lettering. _‘You Are Now In Beacon Hills.’_

Stiles yawned at his desk, shaking his head of fatigue as he stared at the computer screen. Once again, he’d accidentally pulled an all-nighter doing research. At first it was just for his biology project, but before he knew it he’d spent hours reading articles on North American folklore and in forums for the supernatural. He threw his head back and cursed as he thought about how freaking long this day was going to be.

There was a knock on the door and the Sheriff walked in to find his son draped back over his chair, mouth gaping wide and eyes closed. He sighed at the sight.

“Come on, son, time for school.”

 _Go away and let me sleep,_ Stiles thought tiredly.

“ _Urrrnnnnngh_ ,” Stiles said intelligently. Close enough. The Sheriff smirked.

“See, now if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t be so tired.” Stiles cracked an eye open.

"Do you really think you have to lecture me when I feel the way I do?”

“Considering this is the third time _this month_ you look like death warmed over, I think I’m justified.” Stiles closed his eyes again and lazily pulled himself to his feet, tiredly turning to face his father.

“I hate it when you’re right.” The Sheriff nodded as he left his son’s room.

“I know you do. Now get ready.”

Stiles rolled dry eyes and quickly changed into fresh(er looking) clothes and snatched his bag from the bed as he stumbled out and down the stairs, mentally berating himself. With the way things were going, he’d die of exhaustion before any monsters could touch him.

 

 

“Whoa, long night?” Scott asked as he dropped into the seat next to Stiles in Economics. Stiles smirked and stretched his arms over his head.

“Yea, well, you know me. Can’t leave the sexy singles of Beacon Hills disappointed.” Scott snickered and took out his books.

“How is your hand by the way?” Stiles scoffed, letting his hands fall in dramatic disappointment.

“Dude, can’t you come up with a more original, not so lame comeback? Have I taught you nothing in all our years of friendship?”

“Yea, that comeback.” Stiles smiled proudly and affectionately slapped Scott’s arm with the back of his hand.

“There you go. Isn’t that better than recycling my past brilliance?” Scott sighed, stifling his grin. Stiles tilted his head.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re trying to be annoyed.” Scott rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. You coming over tonight? Pack meeting.” Stiles jolted as if he had been injected with pure caffeine and his good humour vaporized. He suddenly felt anything but tired.

“Pack meeting? Why, what’s going on? Like, we’re not gonna have another alpha pack thing going on, are we?” Scott raised his hands, ready to shake Stiles by the shoulders if he had to.

“Whoa, it’s okay, it’s nothing bad I promise.” Stiles’ slumped back into his seat and ran a hand over his forehead.

“Ah, man, dude, you can’t just say things like that without warning.” Scott sighed and settled his hands on his desk, Stiles doing the same.

“What’s the meeting for?”

“Derek’s back.” Stiles just gaped at Scott with disbelief.

“How is that just ‘okay’? The dude’s gone for months, without telling us by the way, and suddenly he’s back and it’s not ‘bad’? What if there’s some reason for him to be back? Like, oh, I don’t know, _another_ freaking thing that wants to kill us? What about Cora? Maybe something happened to her.” Scott shrugged.

“He told me he was leaving.” If looks could kill or seriously injure, Scott would be in so much trouble at that moment.

“ _That’s_ what you got from me?”

“Dude, if it was something serious, he’d have said something over the phone. I’m sure it’s nothing bad. You coming or not?” Stiles sighed in frustration and settled back into his seat, staring forward.

“Yea, I guess. I just gotta drop off dinner for my dad then I’ll be right over.” If he was being honest with himself, he really didn’t want to see Derek at all. It was one thing to leave a place because of bad memories or whatever, but it was another thing entirely to leave without at least saying goodbye. It was just common courtesy to give your friends closure. Or the people who thought of you as a friend anyway. The people who nearly died for you at least deserved a ‘hey, thanks for the help, see ya’. Don’t just tell one person then take off.

“You okay?” Stiles turned back to a worried Scott and smirked.

“Yea, man. Just thinking of the ways I can get back at Derek for ditching us the way he did.” Scott shook his head with a smile.

“Dude, be nice.”

“I can’t promise anything. You know me, just a great ball of sarcasm and snark that’s now at full capacity due to wounded pride and sleep deprivation. Expect metaphorical bloodshed, my friend.”

“Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth?”

“Of course, but by then it’s too late.”

“McCall, Stilinski.” The boys turned to the front where Coach Finstock was standing with his hands on his hips “Can you save your little romance session for after class? I realize self-control is a difficult concept for you, but I have a class to teach and your hormones are distracting to everyone around you.” Stiles turned back to Scott and winked.

“We’ll talk after class, ‘kay babe?” Scott just rolled his eyes in actual annoyance and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as class began.

 

 

Stiles didn’t knock as he entered his dad’s office, not at all surprised to find him going over papers and signing documents while his reading glasses sat halfway down his nose and a now-cold coffee sat forgotten to the far right.

“Yo!” The Sheriff looked up and smiled at his son. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head.

“Dinner already?” Stiles walked the length of the room, crinkly white paper bag in hand, and unceremoniously sat on the chair opposite his father.

“Yep, same time as it always is.”

“Smartass.” Stiles grinned and opened the bag, pulling out a burger for himself and his father as well as a salad and bottle of water each. The Sheriff picked up the burger and started unwrapping it.

“I get actual food today? What’s the occasion?” Stiles took his own burger and followed his father’s lead.

“You know, I put a lot of thought into finding healthy meals for you, okay? I don’t need you criticizing my concerns for your health.” The Sheriff stared pointedly over his burger, elbows resting on the table.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Stiles shrugged, taking a bite of his burger.

“Nothing really,” he said between chews, “just going to Scott’s tonight, probably won’t be back when you get home.” The Sheriff sighed and rested his burger on its wrapper and folded his hands.

“This isn’t a, you know, a weird… wolfy thing is it?” Stiles swallowed and made a vague gesture with one free hand.

“Maybe, technically– totally yea. It’s a pack meeting, but Scott’s pretty confident that it’s nothing bad.” The Sheriff raised his eyebrows.

“’Pretty confident’?”

“Well, okay, he’s confident, I’m concerned. Derek’s… back,” he finished awkwardly, realizing too late he sounded like a character in a really bad soap opera. The Sheriff ran a hand over his face.

“And if he’s back, something has to be going on, am I right?”

“It’s kinda the general pattern. He follows trouble when it’s not following him, or when he’s not following anyone else, really.” The Sheriff clasped his hands with his elbows on the table and rested his forehead against his knuckles, muttering to himself.

“Aw, crap.”

There was a knock on the door and the two Stilinskis looked over to see a deputy with two beautiful, well-dressed men. One looked like a model for Glamour’s Magazine. The other was a gorgeous giant who made Stiles feel small and inadequate.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the deputy said, “but there’s two FBI agents here who need to speak with you.”

“FBI?” Stiles blurted out, a familiar loathing creeping through him at those three seemingly innocuous letters. The shorter of the two bobbed his eyebrows with a curt smile. Stiles turned back to his father who looked just as disgruntled as he felt. Sensing his son’s gaze, the Sheriff flicked his eyes to meet it. He nodded and pointed to the door with both index fingers, hands still clasped.

“We’ll talk later, son.” Stiles gaped in disbelief.

“Wha– but–“

“ _Stiles_ ,” the Sheriff’s expression turned stern, but his eyes apologetic, almost pleading, “Please?” Stiles fumed and finally nodded as he packed his portion of the food back into the bag.

“Fine, I’m running late anyway.”

“Sorry to kick you out, kid,” the shorter but still freakishly tall agent said as Stiles brushed past on his way out. Stiles looked back but didn’t stop.

“Yea, sure,” he huffed, heading for the exit as quickly as possible. He owed it to his dad to trust him. If his dad wanted him out, he’d just have to believe that he'd fill him in later. “See ya, Dad!”

 

 

As soon as the kid left, the deputy following, Dean and his brother walked into the small office. The Sheriff stood with a tight smile, “Agents.”

“Sheriff,” Sam nodded as he and the Sheriff shook hands over the desk. “Agent Greenleaf. Sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to cut in.” The Sheriff waved a hand and moved on to Dean, who was surprised by the man’s too firm grasp.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, though his eyes said otherwise, “I’ll make it up to him tomorrow. Agent…?” Dean smiled as their hands fell apart.

“Strider. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. Sheriff Stilinski.” Dean snickered.

“Stilinski? You named your kid _Stiles Stilinski_?” The Sheriff, hands on his hips, sighed, then gestured for the brothers to sit down before doing so himself.

“Can we just get to the questions now?”

“Okay,” Sam said as they sat down, “well–“

“I didn’t say you’d be asking them,” the Sheriff interrupted. Dean felt a twinge of nerves and glanced to Sam briefly. It would really suck if they got found out before they could get any dirt on this town.

“Okay, what d’you wanna know?”

“Let me see some ID.” Simple enough. He and Sam took out their wallets and complied. The Sheriff held out his hand and Sam passed his ID over, allowing the Sheriff to examine it. Upon inspection, his face lit up.

“Los Angeles office,” he said looking up to face the Winchesters as he handed Sam his ID back, “You ever come across McCall? Good friend of mine.”

“Uh,” Sam put his ID back in his pocket, “yea, he’s a good guy.”

“He is isn’t he?” The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and crossing his arms, “How’s Melissa? Last I heard they were trying for another kid.”

“She’s good,” Dean nodded, “still haven’t hit the jack pot though, but that hasn’t stopped them from puttin’ coins in the slot.” The Sheriff’s expression hardened. Wrong thing to say apparently.

“Raf and Melissa have been divorced for five years.” Definitely wrong thing to say. Crap.

“Look,” the Sheriff leaned forward, an arm resting on the desk, “I could have you arrested for impersonating federal agents, which is just a really stupid crime to commit, especially in a police station. I mean come on, what are you thinking?”

“Uh,” Dean met Sam’s panicked gaze, “we, uh–“

“What’s even more stupid, you actually thought you could get away with it by using Greenleaf and Strider as aliases. Lord of the Rings? _Really?_ Why would you do that?”

“Um, the thing is,” Sam tried, “well, we’re looking for more info on missing persons cases. We know someone who went missing and we’re trying to track him down.” The Sheriff narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Really? Because most people who have someone go missing report it to the police, not impersonate the FBI.”

“Well thing is, we noticed a pattern,” Dean said. “The further south you come, the more people go missing. Almost like something’s moving as they snatch people up. Police didn't believe us, so we took it into our own hands.”

“Some _thing_?” The Sheriff questioned.

“Some _one_ ,” Dean corrected.

The Sheriff was quiet a moment, staring at them with a calculated gaze. All the while, Dean plotted out escape plans. He nearly had one solidified when the Sheriff finally ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his seat.

“Fine, just go.” Sam and Dean looked to each other in confusion before turning back to the Sheriff.

“What?”

“You get out of my office, you hop in your car, and you drive. I see you again, you’re both under arrest. You have twenty-four hours to get back to wherever you came from before I put out an APB on both your asses, and I’m being generous here.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, looking as confused as Dean felt. Which was all kinds of confused. The Sheriff was quiet a moment, a pensive look on his face as if he wasn’t sure himself. _Or has something to hide,_ Dean thought.

“Maybe it’s because you boys are just so damn pretty.” The brothers sat there a moment before the Sheriff snickered, and they began laughing nervously themselves.

“Okay, leave a description of your friend with the deputy out front then get the hell out of my station.” Sam and Dean hesitantly got to their feet and straightened their suits.

“Well, um,” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, “thanks I guess.”

“Just get out.”

“Right,” the brothers said in unison before shuffling out of the office.

 

 

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum left the office and the Sheriff waited until he was sure they were gone before reaching for his phone. He pressed the first number on speed dial and three rings later, the other line picked up.

“Dad? What is it? I just got to Scott’s–”

“I think I know why Derek’s back.”


	2. Helping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I won't update this frequently, but I thought, meh, might as well. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think :)

Stiles tumbled into Scott’s dining room where everyone had converged around the table. Scott stood closest to the door with Lydia and Allison to his right, Derek on the opposite side of the table from the door with his arms crossed, and Isaac and Melissa opposite the girls. The twins were suspiciously absent, though that wasn’t surprising as Derek wasn’t too fond of either of them after Boyd, and Ethan spent nearly all his time around Danny.

All attention was drawn to Stiles once he fell through the doorway and Scott was by his side in an instant. Stiles met Derek’s apprehensive gaze with one of irritation before his best friend shook his arm.

“Where were you? There’s something out–“

"Yea, I know. Missing people, something on its way here, yadda yadda–”

“Wait, how do you know?” Stiles flashed his phone before pocketing it.

“My dad’s kinda the Sheriff, so he can kinda tell when there’s a shit storm coming our way. Also, there were a couple hunters in his office earlier.”

“ _What?_ ” Derek exclaimed as he uncrossed his arms and leaned on the table, palms down, as everyone else looked at each other warily. Melissa’s eyes worriedly flitting between Scott and Isaac while Allison and Lydia shared a wary gaze.

“ _Hunters_ ,” Stiles said with a frustrated sigh, “or so my dad thinks. Two of them, and great to see you too.” Derek glared back at him. Good.

“Look, we have a serious problem here. Could you cut back on the sarcasm for five minutes?” Stile rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Do we have any idea what this thing is?” Silence. Lydia cleared her throat.

“I couldn’t find anything in the bestiary. I’ve been going over all my translations, and literally nothing matches what’s happening. Whatever it is, no one in the Argent line’s hunted it.” Allison took out a butterfly knife and flicked it open.

“Until now.” Stiles suppressed a frustrated sigh as he eyed the illegally carried weapon, but said nothing. Melissa fixed Allison with a stern gaze gesturing to the weapon in her hands.

 “Uh, excuse me. Unless there’s something in the house actively trying to kill us right this second, keep the weapons hidden.” Allison was taken aback, but nodded and complied.

“Sorry, Mrs. McCall.” Melissa smiled back at her and Isaac furrowed his brow.

“Are we sure we don’t know _anything_ about this whatever this thing is? It didn’t leave any clues or anything?” Derek shook his head.

“I tried following it, but whatever it is, it’s an expert at covering its tracks. I can’t even follow its scent, it’s so well hidden. There’s no way to track it but follow its kills.” Finally, something occurred to Stiles.

“Wait, where’s Cora?” Derek met his gaze briefly and Stiles feared the worst but Derek shook his head.

“She’s safe. I sent her to Canada.”

“You sent her to Canada _alone_? And she listened to you?” Derek drew himself to full height, already broad shoulders seeming more powerful. He may not have been an alpha anymore, but he still acted like it. God, it was frustrating.

“We have allies there, a sister pack. She’ll be safer there with them than here.” Stiles raised his eyebrows sardonically.

“Did you even tell her what was going on or did you just tell one person and leave?” Scott shot Stiles a warning glare, eyes flashing red for a brief moment. Stiles rolled his eyes, not bothering to remind Scott that power tactic only worked on other wolves and met Derek’s eyes again.

“Fine, whatever, sorry.” Derek said nothing as he turned to Melissa.

“I need a place to stay while we hunt this thing.” Wow, abrupt.

“What about your uncle’s place?” Scott interrupted before anyone could say anything.

“He’s not there,” Derek turned with a scowl; apparently insulted that Scott thought he didn’t think of that. “From the scent, I’d say he’s been gone as long as I have, maybe a little less. I don't have a key.” He turned back to Melissa with a softer look, “Please?”

Melissa groaned as though she wasn’t sure how her life has gotten like this and ducked her head into her hand as if to stop everything that was happening by just not seeing it. _Good luck_ , Stiles thought as he watched Scott’s mom, _the number of times I’ve tried to do that._

“Fine,” she finally said looking up and letting her hand fall to her hip, “you can have the couch. But just you, I’m not running a werewolf motel and I’ve already got these two knuckleheads to look after, she gestured to the only other two werewolves in the room. Scott looked at his mother incredulously while Isaac tried hard to hide his smile.

 

 

Castiel furrowed his brow at the motel’s television screen and tilted his head. He could not understand. Why were the characters under the impression that Elle was not intelligent when she clearly demonstrated higher cognitive abilities and excellent work ethic? To judge her solely on her apparent superficiality and the incorrect notion of blondes being vapid by nature seemed unfair and arbitrary. She deserved better than that.

Elle had just stormed off on Warner in her rabbit costume when the motel door opened. Castiel hurriedly turned off the television and whipped his head around to see Sam and Dean storm in. Something was wrong.

“Something is wrong,” he stated, taking in their disheveled appearance. Dean tore off his tie with more aggression than Castiel saw necessary for the task, and yet–

“Yea,” Sam said, diverting Castiel’s attention, “you could say that. Sheriff knows we’re not FBI. He gave us twenty-four hours to leave Beacon Hills.” Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion.

“He didn’t arrest you?” Odd, if they had been caught breaking the law by the Sheriff, surely he would have arrested them. Dean threw his tie onto a nearby chair and put his hands on his hips.

“Yea, definitely all kinds of weird. You agreed with me, Sammy, there’s something this guy ain’t telling. If I had two guys breaking a federal law in my station, I wouldn’t just let them off easy. No, he wants us out of here.” Castiel tilted his head.

“You think he’s hiding something?”

“Maybe,” Sam sighed as he shrugged off his jacket. He grabbed his laptop off the bed, sat down, and opened it, the gentle glow casting shadows over his tired face. “Either way, we’re still going to have to leave town unless we want to get ourselves arrested… again.” Dean shook his head.

“No, if something’s going on here, we have to figure it out. I mean come on, what are the chances there’s some kind of thing is here in the _direct path_ of the other thing we’re hunting? We have to explore all possibilities and this,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the door, “is definitely a possibility.”

“Okay,” Sam said, only taking his eyes off the screen for a brief moment, “but in twenty-three and a half hours or so, we’re going to have every cop in this town after us. We’re either going to have to solve this fast or we’re going to have to lay really low for the next little while.”

“I could help,” Castiel said, standing a little straighter as both pairs of eyes fell on him. “If we need information, I can obtain it. Alone if necessary.” Dean shook his head, more gently than he had before.

“Cas, you just fell. You need to get a hang of being human before I can even think about letting you out there. I’m barely letting Sam hunt as it is. You both would be on Crowley Watch with Kevin and Garth if I had my way.” Sam rolled his eyes at the reference to the trials, but continued with his laptop while Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“It’s just research, Dean. And I have my angel blade.”

“Cas, I said no.”

“Maybe it’s a good idea for Cas to get out there.” Dean and Castiel both turned to Sam, Dean incredulous and Castiel pleasantly shocked.

“What?” They said in unison before sharing an awkward side glance before Dean cleared his throat and turned to Sam.

“Uh, what are you smokin’? We’re not sending him out there without backup.”

“I just think it’ll be good for him to get some experience. Look, nearly every disappearance happened in secluded areas, as long as he stays in the crowds I’m sure he’ll be safe. It’ll give him something to do and give us more time to see if whatever this thing is really is here on not.” Castiel smiled with a nod.

“Thank you, Sam,” he said with gratitude, “I appreciate the support.” Sam nodded back and Dean huffed.

“Fine, but I’m tailing you, okay? You can start tomorrow after you get a good night’s sleep. I’m not having you collapse on a case because you didn’t get enough sleep. Understand?” Castiel nodded.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

No one knew that at that moment, Mary Cornelio was jogging the trial behind her house. No one knew when she was abducted.

 

“Geez, Cas, are you really going to wear that again?” Castiel looked down at his attire in the passenger seat of the Impala, confused. Shirt, coat, tie, everything he always wore.

“It’s what I always wear.” Dean nodded, taking a left hand turn.

“Exactly, it’s gonna get really grody really fast if you don’t wash it soon. You should’ve borrowed some of our clothes, we said you could.” Castiel nodded.

“I know, but these have served me well. They’re –“ he paused, not sure how to explain, “they’re mine, would probably be the best way I could explain it. If I change them, what’s left of me?” Dean was quiet for a moment, and Castiel wasn’t sure he understood. He doubted even he himself understood what he was trying to say. Dean nodded.

“Okay, I get it.” Castiel looked to him in surprise.

“You do?”

“I think so,” Dean said, eyes empathetic but still on the road, “you had the most central part of your identity ripped away from you. Metatron stole your Grace, your home, your life basically.” Castiel stared at the floor of the Impala. A burning weight he’d never felt before his… well the weight settled deep in his throat and seared his heart.

“But Cas, you know you always have a home with us. I mean, it’s no heaven on earth, but it’s there. You’re still you, Grace-less or not, and whatever happens, you’re family.” Castiel’s eyes burned and he looked to the Righteous Man’s face.

“Thank you.” Dean turned to him and smiled softly, looking back to the road a second later. Suddenly, Castiel hated that they were driving.

“No problem, bud,” Dean said, his smile turning playful. “Although if that coat starts reeking something awful, I swear to god, I’m burning it.” Castiel chuckled, looked down, and balled the edge of his sleeve into his hand.

“You’d have to tear it off me first.” Dean coughed into his hand and looked out the driver side window before looking straight ahead again. Castiel stared at him, confused.

“Cas, you uh, you can’t just say things like that.” Castiel tilted his head.

"Why not?” Dean’s face was growing red. Maybe he was ill.

“Uh, well, uh, ask Sam about it. Actually, no, he’ll make things worse. Um, I’ll give you ‘the talk’ later. Just, uh, oh look, we’re at… thing.” Castiel looked up to see they were pulling into the parking lot of a high school.

“A high school?” Dean nodded.

“Sam went over some old news articles and according to him, this is freaky crap headquarters. Even before the thing we’re hunting headed south, this place saw plenty of action. Well, more than your regular high school, anyway.” Castiel nodded, looking nervously to the doors.

“And you’re sure I won’t be conspicuous?” Dean shrugged.

“Just act like you know your stuff, y’know? Don’t act like a predator and you’ll be fine.” Castiel nodded and stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him. After a deep breath, he started off toward the school, hoping he didn’t look like a predator.

 

 

“So what did Ethan tell Danny?” Allison asked as Lydia refreshed her lipstick in her locker mirror. “I don’t think he came out and said he was going out of town investigating the supernatural.” Lydia smacked her lips with a satisfied smile and twisted to face Allison as she put the lid back on her lipstick.

“He told him that he and Aiden had a family emergency and would be staying with their aunt for a week,” she turned back to put her makeup back in its case on the shelf and close the door. She flicked her hair back and leaned against the lockers.

“He was pretty upset about it, but Ethan promised to text everyday. I swear, they’re so cute it’s nauseating.” Allison smiled, dimples pronounced.

"They’re no cuter than when Scott and I were going out.” Lydia fixed Allison with a semi-amused gaze.

“Please, you were at least twice as nauseating.” Allison rolled her eyes, but a dark expression flashed over her face and she shivered. Lydia tilted her head, brows drawing together.

“Something wrong?” Allison ran her hands over her upper arms, shaking her head in confusion.

“Yea, I’m– I’m fine. It’s just– since the whole surrogate sacrifice thing we’ve been… I don’t know. It’s nothing really, just shivers.” _And a constant pulling force in our hearts._

“’We’?”

“Scott and Stiles too,” Allison went on, brushing it off. “Nothing to worry about, I promise.” Lydia smiled sympathetically and took Allison’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, if it ever becomes something to worry about, you can talk to me.” Allison smiled and squeezed back.

“Thanks, Lydia. You really are amazing.” Lydia beamed.

“I know I am. But really, what are best friends for if not to listen to each others’ concern about the supernatural?” Allison laughed and they let their hands drop, then Lydia nodded down the hall.

“Can’t keep those boys waiting any longer, can we?” They started off in the direction of the library only to be stopped when they nearly bumped into an awkward looking man with a trench coat. Allison crinkled her nose at the slight smell but met his gaze.

“Oh, uh, can we help you?” The man looked down the hall behind him and turned back to face them.

“Uh, yes. I’m looking for the principal’s office. I’m an investigative journalist.” Lydia eyed him up and down suspiciously.

“You don’t look like an investigative journalist.” The man furrowed his brow.

“What should an investigative journalist look like?” Lydia crossed her arms.

“Like they’ve showered for one thing.” The man looked down at his body as though noticing for the first time the somewhat disheveled state he was in.

“I, uh, I had a long night.” Lydia hummed, meeting his eyes.

“I bet you did, pretty blue eyes like those.” The man sighed in what Allison could only label as frustration and shook his head.

“Can you tell me where I can find someone to interview or not?”

“Lydia! Allison!” The girls looked around the man, who turned to look down the hall as well, to see Scott and Stiles walking a little too quickly to be casual up to them. Scott, loyally protective as ever, positioned himself between Allison and the man with a little less discretion than she would have preferred given the setting. Meanwhile Stiles came around between the girls and threw his hands over both their shoulders.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, carefully eying the man, “what’s up? Everything okay?” Allison laughed nervously.

“Yea, yea, Stiles, everything’s fine,” she said with an assuring nod. “Uh, he was just asking for directions to the office.”

“Down the hall and to the right,” Scott said carefully, staring the man down. “Past the windows.” The man nodded.

“Thank you, for your cooperation.” A pause. “I should go now.” The man sidestepped the group and headed in the direction Scott had dictated. Allison let out a breath and Lydia followed the man with her eyes as he vanished around the corner.

“Weirdo.” Stiles nodded in agreement.

“I know, right?”  

“I was talking about you,” Lydia turned on him and Stiles retracted his arms from the girls, “Do that again, you’re losing the arm.”

“Wha– I was helping!“

“Keep telling yourself that, hon.” Stiles gestured wildly and Allison felt Scott touch her forearm. She turned to him and he looked into her eyes softly.

“You sure everything’s fine?” Allison shrugged.

“I don’t know, I mean, he was just there. He didn’t say much, but he… I don’t know. Was he one of the hunters you saw at the station?” She turned to Stiles, a little relieved when he shook his head.

“Didn’t recognize him, but if he is with those guys, then they must be a group of male models gone rogue because there is no way three gorgeous people like that collectively decided to become hunters.” Allison raised an eyebrow and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you’re in the family business. I’m sure it’s different for you.” Scott looked back down the hall, concern creasing his brow.

“I wonder what he’s doing here.”

 

 

Dean waited in the drivers’ seat, drumming the steering wheel to no music. He was… confused. Cas wasn’t any different than he was before, except now he was human. Their bond was the same as ever, profound. Guardian Angel and Charge. Sure Cas was human, but that didn’t mean than that things should be different. Should they? He was still family no doubt. But… Dean huffed. He was shocked out of his reverie by the passenger side door opening and Cas climbing into his seat.

“Hey, uh, ha. You learn anything new?” Cas shook his head and closed the door.

“Nothing we don’t already know. The principal was… not knowledgeable.” Dean sighed and shook his head.

“Yea, I was afraid of that.”

“I think some of the students suspected me of something. Two girls were talking and I thought they said ‘concern about the supernatural’ before I came up but I wasn’t certain. One of them, Lydia or Allison, was very antagonistic when I approached them until Stiles and the other teenager appeared.”

“Did you say _Stiles_?”


	3. "They Might Know About Us"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get complicated.

Stiles’ phone _bzzzzzz_ ’d on his way to his next class, sending a jolt of anxiety through him as he reached into his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from his dad.

_‘Call me when u can. 3 kids missing.’_

Stiles looked around, only then realizing he’d stopped walking. Weighing the options in his head, he decided he could be a few minutes late to class. Soon, he was ducking out the doors and down the front steps, punching in his dad’s number on speed dial. Two rings later, the line picked up.

" _Don’t you have class to be in?”_

“You said to call you when I can, so I am. What’s going on? Three people are missing?” His dad sighed.

_“I meant at lunch when you don’t run the risk of being late to class.”_

“Just tell me what you need to tell me, and I’ll get to class sooner.”

_“Fine, you know Mary Cornelio, Ashley Jordan or Carlo Tan?”_

“Uh, yea. Mary and Carlo are freshmen and Ashley’s in a few of my classes. They’re not…”

_“Afraid so. Mary was last seen going for a run and the other two on a date. But the weird part, they were all last seen within 90 yards of the nemeton.”_

“Crap.”

 _“Yea. Do me a favour and see if anyone knows anything about what happened.”_ Stiles grinned broadly.

“Are you saying you actually want me to put my unique abilities to work?” His dad must have heard the smile in his voice because he huffed.

 _“Look, this is already weird enough actually asking you to get involved in a case. But, seeing as how you already are, I could use all the help I can get. Just… just make sure you’re safe, okay? If things get dangerous and I’m not there, you let one of the, y’know,_ werewolves _handle it.”_ Stiles rolled his eyes, annoyed.

“Dad, I’ve been involved with the world of weird for over a year, okay? I know how to handle myself.”

 _“I know. It’s just… it’s just that I can’t lose you.”_ Stiles was brought up short, not knowing how to respond.

“Dad…”

 _“Christ,”_ his dad said as though he was barely holding it together, _“Werewolves, kanimas, hunters– pixies, whatever… I still can’t wrap my head around it. God, when did our lives get so complicated?”_ And that broke Stiles’ heart. He shuffled his feet guiltily. He was doing it _again_. How many more ways could he possibly ruin this man’s life?

“I know, it’s pretty freakin’ crazy, isn’t it?” A hollow laugh on the other end.

 _“Yea, I’ll say. At least we’re spending more time together now. Sort of like the good ol’ days.”_ Stiles grinned.

“Yea, maybe with a little more maiming and murdering than there used to be, but at least no more sneaking around or secrets.” Another pause. Had he messed up and said the wrong thing? He supposed the ‘maiming and murdering’ was a bit too colourful for the moment.

 _“Yea,”_ he dad finally said, _“yea you’re right. Listen, we need to talk later, okay? It’s not about this,”_ he rushed as Stiles’ heart rate picked up, _“I promise, but it’s not exactly something I want to talk about over the phone.”_

“Uhh,” Stiles said as he gathered his thoughts, “sure, yea. But, why don’t you want talk about it over the phone?”

 _“Because you’re supposed to be in class, now get your butt in gear.”_ Stiles made a face, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue. His dad was right anyway.

“Fine, see ya.” He hung up his phone and turned to go to class, only to see dirty-trench-coat-man standing in the doorway, propping it open with one hand. Stiles stumbled backwards in surprise, arms flailing out wildly for balance.

“Whoa, jeeze,” he stabilized himself, “god, do you make it a habit to sneak up on unsuspecting minors, or are you just having a bad day?” God, how long had he been standing there? Did he follow Stiles out? The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t understand the question,” the man said slowly, calculating. Stiles swallowed. God, what was this guy’s problem? If he was a hunter and heard enough, Stiles knew he totally messed up.

“Well, uh, I gotta get to class,” he said gesturing to the door and carefully making his way up the steps. “So, y’know, see ya.” Poor choice of words, he hoped he never had to see this man again. The man’s eyes followed him as he walked past and opened the other door. Stiles didn’t stop walking until he made it to class.

“Nice of you to join us, Stilinski,” said Finstock, “I hope you don’t mind that we started without you but unfortunately, the schedule’s stretched thin enough as it is.” Stiles saluted and sauntered to his seat, trying to be as casual as possible.

“Understood, Coach. Carry on.” He slid into his seat and Scott leaned over from the seat beside.

“Dude, you okay?”

“I think I may have messed up.”

 

 

“Dean, just because some kid shows up twice doesn’t mean he’s a monster,” Sam said as his brother paced the floor of the motel. “Besides, you didn’t even see him. You don’t know he’s the same kid!”

“Sammy, how many kids do you think there are in _America_ with the name Stiles? Cas says this kid was talking to his dad about the ‘world of the weird’ and ‘maiming and murder’. Don’t you think that’s pretty damn suspicious? And it makes sense! If you know there’s people out there who want to kill your kid, wouldn’t you try to get them as far away as possible? Even if he’s not something we hunt, he’s involved somehow.” Sam scratched behind his ear and looked back down to his laptop screen.

“I guess. If he was it would explain the animal attacks this town’s had over the past year or so.”

“Yea, my point!”

“Still, it doesn’t explain why the thing we’re following’s here. If it was following the normal pattern, it would be on the other side of town by now. According the the news bulliten, all the missing people were last seen around the same area. Why would it stop here?” Dean stopped by the table and picked up his beer.

“Weird-ass creature convention?”

“Dean, this is serious.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Dean said angrily. “There’s not one, but two things out there we gotta worry about. Maybe more if those other kids are involved. Three people’ve already been reported as missing since yesterday, all from this kid’s school apparently. Plus, this kid’s dad’ll make things as difficult as possible if the kid said anything to him yet. Speaking of which, the second Cas comes back through the door, we’re leaving the motel. Our twenty-four hours may have just cut to twenty.”

“Yea,” Sam agreed, “for sure. So what are we doing? Are we gonna look for more info on this thing or are we tracking down this Stiles kid to see if he knows something?”

“ _You_ aren’t doing anything except recovering from the trials and watching Cas,” Dean put his unfinished beer down and turned to pack up their things, “If I can’t find this kid first, I’ll check out the area the missings were last seen.” He could feel Sam’s incredulous gaze boring into the back of his head, but he didn’t care.

“Dean, you are not doing this alone. It’s too dangerous to–“

“Dammit, Sammy,” Dean turned around to give his brother a stern gaze, “I can’t have you running around out there when you haven’t fully recovered. You fell asleep the same time Cas did and you were _still asleep_ when we left. And this ain’t the first time you slept so much either.”

“Just because I can’t do a hunter’s sleep schedule–“

“Sam, I’m serious. It’s painfully clear that you’re still recovering. You’re not tracking anything down with me, and you’re not doing anything more than research. I need you to get better.” The door opened and two heads turned to see Castiel standing there with a full plastic bag in hand and an uncertain expression on his face.

“I– feel like I’m interrupting something.” Sam and Dean met each other’s gaze before Sam turned back to Castiel with determination.

“Dean was just telling me how he wants to go off alone and leave you and me to just wait around for him to get himself killed.” Dean mentally cursed and turned to Castiel.

“Come on, he’s not–“

“I won’t let you go off alone, Dean. Sam and I will accompany you.” Dean shook his head.

“No, you’re staying with Sam. Once we get somewhere safe, you two will stick together and I’ll go check things out.” Castiel stood to his full height, which was pretty short compared to the Winchesters but still oddly intimidating.

“I can help, Dean. Sam and I are more than capable–“

“Dammit, Cas, I don’t want to have to look out for the whackadoos we’re after and you two. Sam’s still recovering, and you just fell. You’re both not ready to–“ Castiel advanced on Dean with an aggressive intensity in his eyes, only stopping once he and Dean were within an inch of each other and the collar of Dean’s shirt secured in his fist.

“I was a soldier of heaven. Sam is a hunter on earth. We both know the risks of the battlefield. Do you think we’d let you face them alone?” Dean was about to interrupt but Castiel continued, his skin flushed with anger, “We know our limits better than you. If we say we can assist you, we will. Don’t _ever_ underestimate our abilities again.” Dean swallowed.

“Fine. Fine, but if either of you get taken or killed, I swear to every god we’ve met and all the ones we haven’t that I’m gonna kill you.” Castiel nodded and slowly backed away, releasing his grip of Dean’s shirt. Suddenly, Dean felt really lightheaded. An awkward silence fell on the room and Castiel cleared his throat.

“I uh, I’ll take a shower before we leave,” he walked to the table and set the plastic bag on top of it. “The only pie they had available was blueberry.”

“Uh, that’s good. Yea, uh, blueberry’s good.” Castiel nodded, then rushed into the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind him. Dean turned to Sam, who was sitting there with a huge, stupid smile on his face.

“Not a word outta you,” Dean threatened. Sam’s smile only grew.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

 

“What do you mean ‘they _might_ know about us’?” Derek’s furious gaze seared through Stiles with such intensity, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of it so often when they first met, it would have terrified him. They were at the McCall house, but only Derek had been there when Scott, Stiles, and Isaac walked in. Lydia and Allison had gone for a training session with Chris, but promised to come over after. Though now, Stiles wished he had dragged them over there because Derek was being a total ass.

“Hey, it’s not like I did it on purpose, I was making a private call to my dad–“

“And you didn’t bother to check if there was anyone around,” Derek finished towering over Stiles. “Don’t you think that was an extremely stupid thing to do?” Stiles stood his ground, refusing to back away, and glared right back. He didn’t deserve this.

“Oh, right, because obviously you’re the master of subtlety, Mister I-Show-Up-At-High-Schools-Dying-From-Wolfsbane-Poisoning. Not like you were risking Scott’s secret at the time or anything. Besides, he snuck up on me. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have super sensitive hearing like you do. I don’t even know how long he was there let alone how much he heard of the conversation.”

“He’s right,” Scott interrupted, stepping between the two, “we don’t know what he heard, or even if he was a hunter.” Derek’s eyes flitted to Scott.

“We can’t afford the luxury of thinking like that. If they’re following whatever this thing is and they find out about us, guess what? We become the new target. Better to kill something you know how to before killing the thing you don’t.” Stiles leaned around Scott.

“I’d also like to point out that I never actually said the ‘w-word’ out loud, so I think that might poke a bit of a hole in your reasoning.” Derek’s eyes trained onto Stiles, burning bright blue. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, “Or not, you know, whatever.” Derek’s eyes faded to normal before looking again to Scott, who stood defiantly. All was quiet until Isaac coughed into his hand.

“Uh, if everyone’s done with the ‘blame game’, can we get to figuring out what we’re gonna do about it?” Scott nodded to Isaac with a small smile and turned a hard gaze back to Derek.

“Isaac’s right, we need to make a plan. So lay off.” Derek seethed, but nodded and retreated to the other side of the living room. Scott nodded and turned to the other two.

“So do either of you guys have any plans?”

“Well, I–“

“Speak up,” Derek interrupted, “I don’t think the hunters can hear you.” Stiles glared, hands clenching into fists. What was Derek’s problem? They were getting along so well before he left, what happened? After a moment of consideration, Stiles grabbed his schoolbag off the couch and turned for the front door.

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice followed him out into the hall, but Stiles continued. A moment later, Scott gently grabbed his upper arm and Stiles turned to face his best friend.

“What?”

“You can’t just leave,” Scott insisted. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a lot going on right now.”

“Yea, I noticed,” Stiles aggressively slid his arm out of Scott’s grasp and nodded to the living room. “Derek has too apparently. Look, I don’t need to take that kind of crap from him. Not after everything with last year and the alphas, and if I have to stay here while he’s like this, I’m just gonna end up punching him in the face. Then I’ll be have to deal with more crap and my hand will be broken. Besides, Lydia and Allison will be by later. Then you can have a genius and a strategy expert that can help.”

“Stiles, come on–“

“I’ll text you if I think of anything.” He slammed the door as he left. Inside the house, Scott went back to the living room to glare at Derek while he sulked against the wall. Isaac looked between the two, sensing an argument brewing, and knew he had to diffuse the situation somehow. He gestured in the direction Stiles had gone.

“Is it just me or was that exit actually kinda hot?” Scott and Derek shifted their glares towards Isaac, who pursed his lips and pat his sides awkwardly.

“Just me, then.” Derek growled.


	4. Bring it On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this later, but I got impatient. So, yea, here's a little bit of fluff then a whole lot of angst. I regret nothing. Enjoy!

Sheriff Stilinski sat at his desk, writing up reports in an effort to stay at work a little longer. A part of him hated that he was doing the opposite of what he usually did, but the other part was too nervous to care. And he had a right to be. A knock on the door interrupted his thinking.

“Melissa,” he said with a smile as the woman, in full nurse garb, entered the room, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Melissa smiled as she cupped his face in her hand and briefly-but-lovingly kissed him. She hummed as she drew back and her smile broadened. 

“I wanted to see you before my shift, seeing as how this is the only time I actually get to when the kids aren’t around.” Stilinski nodded and Melissa’s brows drew together she took her hand back.

“Is something wrong? I didn’t come at a bad time, did I?”

“No, no,” he said and her face relaxed, “no, I was just– I texted you.”

“My battery died, I have it on the charger in the car. What’s going on?”

“I, uh, I told Stiles we were going to talk tonight. I want to tell him about us.” Melissa raised her eyebrows and stood tall.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? Not that I don’t think he or Scott should know, I just thought we agreed not to tell them until it was serious. Are we– uh, I mean– are we?” Stilinski smiled nervously. When she asked him out after the ordeal with the sacrifices, they agreed not to tell either of the boys. They were best friends, and if their parents started dating it would be… awkward. Stiles might be angry about his ‘moving on’ from Claudia and that might cause a rift between him and Scott, or the prospect of them being brothers might put too much pressure on such a new relationship. And he really liked Melissa. He wanted this to last.

“Well,” he said, somewhat awkwardly, “I was hoping to wait a little longer, but I was talking to Stiles earlier about how things were finally going back to some sort of normal between us and something he said really struck a chord. Something about no more sneaking around and secrets, and I realized, I’m keeping a huge part of my life from him. After the strain it caused when one of us did that last year… I don’t want to feel that distance from my son again.” Melissa nodded and sat on his desk, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I get that. And I suppose I can’t keep it from Scott for much longer. Secrets are really surprisingly difficult when your kid is a living lie detector.” Stilinski laughed and rested a hand over hers.

“I’d imagine they would be.” Melissa smiled and her eyes fell to the floor. She glanced sidelong at him, nervousness clear in her gaze.

“So, you didn’t answer my question. Are we? Serious I mean.” Stilinski beamed, his hand curling softly around hers.

“If you’re ready for that. I know I’m no twenty-something werewolf model sleeping on your couch, but I think I can hold my own.” Melissa laughed, leaning in, and kissed him again. Her lips lingered close to his even after they had parted.

“Bring it on.” The Sheriff smiled, feeling like a man half his age and leaned in for another kiss. Melissa leaned back with a coy smile.

“But _after_ I get off work.” The Sheriff leaned back in his seat, silly grin still on his face.

“You’re killin’ me Mels.”

“Talk to your son, then maybe we can arrange for a sleepover. Them at my house, me at yours?” She stood up and headed for the door, their hands still touching until the last possible moment and the Sheriff winked as she looked over her shoulder.

“Looking forward to it.”

 

 

“No-no-no-no, aw, come on,” Stiles begged of his car as it slowed to a stop at the side of the road. He wasn’t too surprised, really. He hadn’t been able to afford to properly fix it after the crash back during the time his dad was missing. One of the quick-fixes must have finally given way. On the side of an abandoned road. With dense forest surrounding him. And an unknown thing abducting people. He was one dead phone and a sunset away from being in a horror movie.

The dying light of the sun shone through his window as he reached hopefully for his phone. He’d learned to be diligent enough with charging his phone, but sometimes one distraction lead to another.

 _Come on, come on, come on,_ he thought as he checked. Mostly charged with decent enough reception. Hallelujah! He exhaled sharply in relief and dialed in his father’s number. No way he was going back to Scott’s tonight. Three rings later, the other line picked up.

_“I know I’m late, I’m just heading out–“_

“Don’t worry, I’m not home yet either. Could you come pick me up? Derek was being a dick so I left.”

_“Where are you?”_

“On the main road from Scott’s house. My jeep broke down on me.” Silence. “Dad?”

“ _Is that near the nemeton?_ ” Realization dawned. He was in the red zone.

“It… might be in the general area.”

“ _Alright,”_ his dad said and Stiles could hear him hurriedly putting his coat on, _“I’ll be there in ten. Just stay–“_

A noise from outside the jeep alerted Stiles to the presence of something. He lowered the phone and looked around. He couldn’t see anything but he sure as hell wasn’t going to trust his eyes blindly. He would have chuckled at the pun had his heart not been pounding so wildly in his chest. He brought the phone to his ear again.

“Hold on, I think I heard something.”

 _“What? Stiles, stay there. I’m on my way.”_ Stiles slowly reached into the back and firmly gripped his baseball bat. It was cool to the touch and Stiles heart beat slightly faster as he brought it to his side. He heard the noise on the other side of him now. Was there more than one?

“Hold on, Dad. There’s definitely something out there.”

 _“Stiles, for the love of god,_ stay in the jeep. _”_ Stiles kept the phone secure between his cheek and his shoulder as he opened the door and climbed out. Bat gripped tightly with both hands, he looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then there was a dark shape beside him. He screamed and swung the bat with all the force he could muster, coming into contact with something _hard._ His phone dropped to the ground as he stumbled back.

_“Stiles? STILES?”_

“Derek!” Stiles yelled when he finally registered what, or who, he'd just hit. Derek was leaning against the side of the jeep, hand to his head, and grimacing with pain. It took his father calling out for him a few more times before he dropped to the ground to bring his phone back to his ear.

“Hey, sorry, Dad, it was just Derek.”

 _“I thought I told you to stay in the goddamn jeep,”_ his father said furiously.

“I know, I know. My bad.”

_“We’ll talk about this when I get there. Just stay with Derek, okay?”_

“I’d rather take my chances walking home,” Stiles muttered unwisely.

 _“Stiles,_ stay _. I don’t want to have to put out a missing persons on you.”_

“Fine,” Stiles sighed, “see you when you get here.” He hung up the phone and turned to a now upright Derek, “Good to see you’re still your creepy self.” Derek shook his head and rubbed his temple.

“Your reflexes improved.”

“Yea, well, living with a bunch of werewolves and defending yourself from things that want you dead will improve your reaction time. Now what are you doing here?” Derek lowered his hand and stared, surprised to see his fingertips were smeared with blood.

“What was on that bat?” He looked fearfully to Stiles, who licked his lips irritably, but understood the concern.

“Some kind of ointment I got off Deaton. It’s supposed slow your healing time by about half and prevent you from fully turning for the next hour or so. You should be fine unless someone shoots you or something.” Derek raised his eyebrows and Stiles huffed.

“It’s a protective measure in case any more killer packs come by, now why are you here? Shouldn’t you be brainstorming over at Scott’s? Or doing crunches or whatever it is you do now apart from being a dick?” Derek looked out into the forest and when he turned back, his cut was slowly stitching itself together.

“I came to make sure you were okay.” Stiles raised his eyebrows sardonically.

“Really? You berate me like I’m some kind of horrible human being, then you get all condescending when I try to help, and when I leave _that’s_ when you decide ‘gee, I better make sure he’s okay’? You expect me to believe that?”

“Don’t forget you’re the one who was ‘berating’ and ‘condescending’ first.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Stiles said in a sarcastic comparison to a sincere apology, putting his hand to his heart for good measure, “you’re right. How dare I react to you leaving without so much as a good bye like a normal person? How rude of me.” Derek glared.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it. I said goodbye–“

“Yea, to _Scott_ , I know. I just thought, maybe, I don’t know, after all we’ve been through and all the times I _risked my life_ for you, I’d at least get some notice you were leaving! A little, ‘see ya, Stiles’ maybe?” Anger coursed through him, and no matter how hard he tried to rein it in, the words still rushed from his mouth like he was a can of coke that someone shook up then opened.

“God, I thought that maybe we had some kind of understanding. That maybe we were _friends?_ That maybe we came to know each other better than that? That maybe,” he looked down, his next words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, “maybe I was wrong. Maybe you really don’t care and I was only imagining it.”

He looked up again to see an emotionless mask that covered all but Derek’s eyes. Those seemed sad, but then maybe Stiles was imagining that too. And that thought hurt. So he distracted himself the best way he knew how. It’s not like he could make things worse. In for a penny, in for a pound, anyway.

“I get it, though,” he continued as he looked anywhere but Derek’s stupid face. That tree root was interesting. “During the deal with the alphas you were emotionally vulnerable. I probably misinterpreted it to mean I was, I don’t know, important I guess. But I mean, why should you care, really? It’s not like we really hang out much outside of trying to stop things from killing us. Which by the way, happens way too frequently for my liking.” He looked up to see Derek had crossed his arms, then glanced back down and up again. “I guess I hoped that meant we were more than just convenient for each other.” Derek looked to the ground, mask falling, and Stiles stood there awkwardly. He wanted to either storm off in frustration or comfort that stupid, sad look off Derek’s stupid, sad face.

“Whatever,” he finally said, leaning against the side of the jeep, defeated. “Clearly, I was wrong. Forget I said anything.”  Now that he’d gotten all the resentment out of his system, Stiles just felt hollow. Well, as hollow as he could with the now commonplace tightness pulling at his heart. Freaking surrogate sacrifice. It may have saved his dad but that didn’t mean the side effects were any more enjoyable. He stared at the ground, expecting to stand in silence until his dad finally showed up. He didn’t expect it when Derek grabbed his upper arm.

“Derek?” He looked up to see the werewolf’s panicked eyes.

“We’re not safe here.”

 

 

“What?” Stiles asked but Derek was too busy looking around to pay much attention. There was something there. He’d heard it earlier, but it hadn’t triggered any alarms. Growing up where he did, he’d learned the difference between forest animals and supernatural creatures. Now there was no mistaking it. Something was circling them, herding them. His hand tightened around Stiles’ arm.

“Ow, Derek, let go!” Derek adjusted his grip to be more gentle and dragged Stiles to the door of his jeep.

“Dude, it’s not gonna work. Why do you think I was calling–?”

“We’re not gonna try to drive,” Derek said, looking down the road. Still no sign of Sheriff Stilinski. “You’re staying here where it’s somewhat safe. I can fight it.” Stiles gaped incredulously at Derek as he opened the door and started to shove Stiles in.

“What? No!" Stiles threw his other arm out and stuck his legs stiffly out in resistance. "You can’t just stay out here and wait for some thing to get you! God, you can’t even do more than make your eyes glow right now!” Derek grunted as Stiles continued his fight to keep himself from being loaded into the jeep, the bat in his hand kept as far from Derek’s skin as possible, for which Derek was somewhat grateful. Whatever coated it stung like hell.

“Stiles, just get in the damn jeep!”

“No!”

“Get. In. The. Jeep. Or I won’t hesitate to break your arm.”

“You’re not staying out here with no backup! Just because I’m pissed doesn’t mean I want you dead.” Derek stopped pushing and met Stiles’ eyes. They were determined. He listened for his heart. Steady. He wasn’t lying. Slowly, Derek nodded and let go. He looked down the road again. It was probably best he stopped. If the Sheriff had seen him manhandling his son into the jeep, things could have gotten awkward. A noise again, but this one was different. Humans, at least three. They were close.

“Damn,” he cursed their rotten luck. Seriously, how were there this many coincidences occurring at once to screw them up?

“Derek?” Stiles asked but Derek kept his eyes trained beyond the jeep as the figures, hunters, appeared through the trees. In Derek’s peripheral, he could see Stiles turn around to see what he was looking at.

“Aw, crap.”

“Well,” the bowlegged hunter said, gun not fully raised but definitely not hidden, “didn’t think we’d run into you out here. Stiles, right?”

 

 

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit,_ Stiles looked down the road and licked his lips. His dad still wasn’t there. It was only ten minutes away from the station, he sould be there soon, right? He turned back to the hunters, noting the smirk on Fake Strider’s face and a thought struck him.

“Dude, you did this to my jeep? The hell, man?”

“Stiles,” Derek murmured close to his ear, and Stiles would not admit that it made his skin tingle, “do you really think now is the best time to antagonize gun wielding psychopaths?”

“We didn’t do squat to your rust bucket there, kid,” Fake Strider said as he reached the jeep, knocking on the hood as he came around and stopped beside them, the other two circling to their other side, “but we’re sure as hell glad it conked out. We have a couple questions for you. You know anything about those missing kids or the slash n’ dashes over the past year?”

“I literally only understood about half of that,” Stiles said, his heart pounding faster as he struggled to remain calm. “But, uh, as to what I did understand, I got nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yea, _really_. You could always try asking my dad, who probably knows more than I do, actually being an officer of the law and all. And he’ll be here any minute now too, so maybe this time’ll go more smoothly than it did earlier. What d’you think, _Agent_?” Fake Strider’s eyes hardened and he raised his gun, aiming directly at Stiles.

“We’ll make this quick then.” Before he could blink, Derek was placing himself in the direct path of the bullet.

“Wha– Derek!” he exclaimed the same time Fake Greenleaf nearly shouted “Dean!”

“You want him, you have to go through me.” Derek crossed his arms and did that chin point he liked to do when he wanted to be intimidating. Stiles looked behind them to see Fake Greenleaf and Trench Coat with guns out, but aimed at the ground. Trench Coat didn’t seem quite as experienced as the other two, his handling seemed sloppy and demeanor a little too nervous. He was probably new. Stiles’ grip on the bat tightened and he vaguely wondered what their chances would be if he tried swinging their way out of there. Probably in the negative to zero range.

“Touching,” Fake Strider- Dean said to Derek, earning back the attention of Stiles, “but this is between us and your boyfriend. We just have some questions about his little ‘world of the weird’, unless you’re part of that too. You definitely have some sort of weird, cradle-robbing, psycho killer vibe going on.”

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Stiles waved his hand and leaned around Derek, who immediately tensed and tried to push him back behind him, only partly successful. “First off, I’m seventeen, okay? Not exactly ‘cradle-robbing’. Second, I don’t know what you think you’ve heard, but I don’t know anything! I know about as much as you do about the missing people.” Dean raised his eyebrows and looked around.

“I don’t know kid, seems pretty suspicious that your tin can breaks down in the same area kids from your school went missing. Seems to me like you know more than you’re letting on.” Stiles shifted his weight in annoyance.

“Can we please stop insulting my jeep?”

“Stiles, no one cares about your damn jeep,” Derek said irritably. “In case you forgot, these hunters have guns in their hands and aim to kill to get whatever it is they think you know.” Dean smirked.

“So you know a bit about hunters then?” Derek shrugged.

“What else would you call someone who preys on the innocent?”

“Yea, well, save your little rants on hunting for PETA because we’re really not interested in hearing it.” A scream cut off any remarks that were about to be said and silence fell on the small group. Fake Greenleaf looked around.

“What the hell–“

“HELP!” a female voice called out, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SOMEONE HELP ME _PLEASE_!” Stiles heart nearly stopped. He knew that voice. He'd spent years obsessively infatuated with that voice and the person it belonged to before realizing how good a friend she was. He was sprinting towards into the forest before either Derek or Dean could stop him.

“LYDIA!”  


	5. Sonovabitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for you, Merry Christmas! 
> 
> Or if you don't celebrate Christmas, have a merry day anyway <3

The Sheriff flew down the road, siren blaring and trees racing past the window. Why was the station so far from the McCall house? His thoughts were whirling ahead, the worst scenarios flashing through his mind as he pressed the pedal harder. A few months ago, his worst worry was that Stiles would get himself arrested by one of his deputies for being at a crime scene that he had no reason being around. Now ‘death by monster’ seemed less ridiculous than it did then. He was so lost in thought he nearly crashed into a tree that had fallen onto the road.

“Sonova-” the Sheriff huffed as he slammed the breaks. He threw the car into reverse and cursed as he retraced his tracks and turned down the alternate road. The long way around. He slammed on the gas and tore off down the road. He didn’t have time for this crap.

 

 

“STILES!” Derek shoulder checked Dean as he began his pursuit. He wasn’t quite as fast as he usually was, but still kept up fairly well. _What was in that stuff on the bat?_ The hunters were following close behind, but Derek was too preoccupied with catching up to the wild, flailing mass of limbs ahead of him. Finally he caught up enough to secure Stiles’ arm with an iron tight grip.

“What are you doing?” he muttered as Stiles yelped at the sudden force that pulled him to a stop. “You can’t just run after that thing. You don’t even know what it’s capable of.” Stiles yanked his arm back, only to be caught again.

“So what, you just want me to stand back while something quite possibly tears one of my friends apart? Screw you!”

“Your friend’s right, kid,” said Dean as he raced by, leaving behind the faint scent of blueberry pie and cheap beer in his wake.

“Stay here,” the other hunter, the tall one, chimed in as he followed his partner. Stiles yanked his arm back again, successfully this time, and whirled around to watch the hunters vanish deeper into the forest.

“Yea, real good time to think about my safety, Agents,” he called after them. “Real progressive!”

“My colleagues are right, Stiles,” the hunter in the dirty coat stopped beside them, “it’s simply not safe for you to venture further.” The gun was still clumsily held in his hand, safety still off. Derek inhaled sharply and fixed the hunter with a cold glre. Stiles on the other hand–

“Yea, and having a gun to my head is? You seriously think I’m going to trust two wack-jobs and their accountant? You were giving us the goddamn Spanish Inquisition like five minutes ago instead of, oh, I don’t know, _doing your damn job?_ ” The hunter shuffled his feet, apparently at a loss for what to say.

“We were only trying to find the cause of the missing people. I feel we have jumped to conclusions regarding your role. I do apologize on behalf of both myself, and the Winchesters.” _Winchester?_ Why did that name sound familiar? Derek looked back to Stiles as he licked his lips and huffed.

“Fine, whatever. Just let me go help Lydia.”

“STILES?” The Sheriff’s voice cut through the forest, drawing their attention back to the now hidden road. The hunter nodded towards in the direction of the jeep, apology still in his eyes though Derek still doubted the sincerity. The hunter seemed genuine enough, but past experience dictated that trusting this person was a bad idea. He didn’t earn it.

“You’d better go,” said the hunter. “We’ll make sure your friend is safe. I promise, we’ll do our best.”

“STILES!” Stiles was visibly torn between getting to his father and racing to his childhood crush. Derek stopped himself from putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He hadn’t even realized he started to reach out until he let his hand fall. There was a moment of silence as Stiles followed Derek’s movements, confusion shifting into something like hope. Derek glanced to the road with a nod, keeping his expression neutral.

“Your dad’s waiting.” Stiles’ features hardened while the hunter shifted his weight awkwardly.

“I should go now. I’m needed elsewhere.” The hunter made no move to leave when the sheriff’s cry cut through the air, Stiles’ immediately following.

“DAD!”

 

 

Scott drummed his hands on the table, a look of stern concentration on his face. The room was silent but for the small movements made as he and Isaac sat in deep thought, not a word shared between the two. A minute or so later, Scott looked up to meet Isaac’s eyes.

“Any ideas?”

“Nope.” Scott let his hands still in disbelief.

“All this time, and you didn’t come up with _anything?_ ”

“You didn’t either,” Isaac leaned back in his chair, arm over the backrest, eyebrows raised. “It’s not my fault we’re the only ones here.” Scoot leaned back and tapped his index finger in the table.

“First Stiles, then Derek, now Allison and Lydia. You don’t think anything’s happened to them, do you?” Isaac shook his head with a shrug.

“They’re probably just going over things a few more times. You know how competitive they can get. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Depends if you’re talking about the girls or the guys.” Isaac laughed and leaned forward.

“Something tells me Derek’s not gonna survive five minutes if Stiles goes off on him." He laced his fingers together in the tabletop. "Personally, I think they should just make out already and get rid of all that tension.” He glanced up to Scott’s disbelieving face. “What?”

“Dude, that’s my best friend.”

“And?”

“And it’s Derek. You know, _Derek_ Derek?” Isaac shrugged.

“Your point?”

The front door opened and a few seconds later, the two saw Allison step out of the hall and into the room, hair mussed and face flushed.

“Hey.” Isaac smirked. “About time you got here.” Scott furrowed his brow.

“Where’s Lydia?”

“Here,” Lydia strolled to a stop beside Allison, her own hair falling out of its braid and cheeks rosy. “Got a little carried away with target practice and lost track of time. There was also a huge tree blocking the short road,” she looked around in confusion. “I thought Derek and Stiles were supposed to be here?”

 

 

Derek, Stiles, and the hunter came to a stop where Stiles jeep was, but all they could see was a desolate road, completely devoid of any sign that Sheriff Stilinski was ever there. The hunter lowered his gun in confusion and Stiles stepped out onto the road, looking down both directions and panic painted over his face.

“This doesn’t make any sense, my dad should be _right here_. You heard his voice, right?” he faced Derek, fearful eyes wide and breaths so quick he was close to hyperventilating. Derek nodded and Stiles spun around, looking at everything. “Then I don’t get it. My dad should…” Realization dawned in Stiles’ eyes; a realization that Derek came too the second he met Stiles’ gaze.

“It did this. It’s trying to split us from the group.” The hunter had his gun raised in an instant, stiffly aiming the gun in arbitrary directions. Derek flinched with every jarring turn.

“Stay close to me,” the hunter murmured as his blue eyes scanned the forest, “I’ll keep you safe.” A crack from above, and the hunter was hit head by a falling tree branch, knocking him to the ground and pinning him. Derek looked around wildly, seeing nothing but leaves and bark. He hadn’t even _heard_ anything.

“Where the hell is it?” He looked down when Stiles grasped his arm, having reached some sort of goddamn epiphany.

“Derek, I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“The locality’s wrong, but it fits! The speed, it obviously knows how to hunt, it mimics human voices. Derek, it’s a wendi–“ Derek didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as he was yanked upwards by large strong hands.

“DEREK!” A hot breath at the back of his neck. A shot. Falling. And the world went black.

 

 

“Hey, hey Derek! _Derek._  Sam, that’s his name, isn’t it?”

“I think he’s just really out of it. He probably has a concussion or something.”

“Goddamn it, we don’t have time for this. _Derek!_ ” Derek groaned and propped himself onto his elbows on the forest floor. His head was spinning and an overwhelming urge to vomit possessed him, but other than that he couldn’t feel much pain. So this was what a concussion felt like. He opened his eyes to see Dean kneeling over him, Sam towering behind, both visibly panicked. Dean’s eyes were torn between forced calm and terror as they bored into Derek’s own.

“Derek, I need you to listen to me carefully. Where are Cas and Stiles?” The memories flashed through his mind and he was scrambling to his feet, stumbling around as he searched the trees, one of which had a bullet embedded in the wood. Nothing.

“Stiles? STILES!” He was nowhere in sight but his scent was everywhere as if he’d been circling the area. _This is all my fault_ , Derek realized. _If I had protected him better…_ His chest was painfully tight but everything else felt numb. Time was moving far too slow but far too fast all the same. He did his best to keep himself under control but he knew it still showed. Long story short, Derek was panicking.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, easy there buddy,” Dean put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, but with more speed than humanly possible, Derek threw it off and glared the hunter down, eyes glowing a cold steel blue.

“Stay the hell away from me,” Derek growled. Dean’s gun was level with his head the second Derek had uttered the first syllable, Sam’s movements in sync with his fellow hunter. Any concern in Dean’s eyes vanished as his toxic glare zeroed in on the werewolf before him.

“Tell me where Cas is you sonovabitch or I swear to god, I’m putting a bullet in your head!” Derek growled in return. There was a crashing to the left and both Dean and Derek turned to see the hunter, Cas, returning with blood on his face and a tear in his trench cost. Dean holstered his gun and practically ran to Cas’ side while Derek’s heart plummeted and his eyes reverted to normal. He turned to see Sam, who hadn’t looked away or lowered his gun, stare at him with sympathy in his eyes despite the set jaw. Derek hated it.

“Where the hell were you?” Dean was practically yelling. “We come back here to the sound of freaking gunshots and you and the kid are missing and this,” he gestured to Derek, “thing is all that we can find? What the hell?” Then almost as an afterthought, “You okay?” Cas looked down, his eyes glassy.

“I’m not hurt. The creature took Derek and dropped him soon after. It then grabbed Stiles and I tried to follow once I was finally free of the branch, but I couldn’t keep up. I think it thought I was too much trouble because I kept shooting at it, though I never got a clear look.”

“You see the direction it went?” Derek asked urgently, taking an unconscious step toward Cas, but Sam’s adjustment of footing and grip on the gun gave Derek pause. Cas was the only one not to flinch at Derek’s movement, seeming genuinely sad to the point of vulnerability as he lowered his gaze. Before he could respond, the Sheriff’s siren broke through the air, loud enough for the hunters to hear.

“Sonovabitch!” Dean cursed as Sam lowered his firearm and the car screeched to a stop, lights still flashing and the siren silent. The Sheriff stepped out of the car, a hand on the roof and the other on the door, and surveyed the scene with a quick glance. His panic turned to fear turned to unbridled fury as his eyes fell on Derek.

“Where’s my son?” His voice far too calm compared to the murderous glint burning in his eyes. No one said anything and the Sheriff stepped aside, slammed the door and stormed straight to Derek, grabbing him by the shirt collar with both hands. The hunters called out warnings, which were ignored as human eyes bored into the werewolf’s.

“Where. Is. Stiles?” Derek continued to stare into the Sheriff’s eyes, seeing the fury, the sadness, the grief, and the panic warring with each other for dominance. Derek sighed and finally let his gaze drop.

“I don’t know.” The Sheriff shook his head. Tears threatened to fall from his now bloodshot eyes and his jaw twitched with poor emotional restraint. He drew one fist back with violent intent, but the punch never came. Instead, the Sheriff pointed at Derek, wagging his finger dangerously close to Derek’s face in emphasis.

“You fix this,” he said, his voice close to breaking. “You fix it, and you fix it now. You find my son, and bring him home safe. Understand?” Derek nodded and allowed the Sheriff to push him back, swaying on the spot. Dean cleared his throat.

“Uh, anyone care to explain what the hell is going on?”

“You,” the Sheriff glared pointedly at Dean, “have no right to ask explanations.”

“Actually, I think I do,” Dean stepped forward, gesturing to Derek. “You know this guy ain’t human, right?”

“Do they just let any idiot be a hunter nowadays?” The Sheriff snapped, “Look, I don’t have time for this crap. Take your backup dancers and go. I should’ve arrested you back in my office.” Dean opened his mouth to say something but Sam intervened.

“Uh, Sheriff Stilinski, we are so sorry about your son. But we can help get Stiles back. You know we’re hunters, right? We can help. We just have to know everything, and I mean everything.”

“Yea, like what the hell is up with crazy eyes over here.” Dean interjected.

“WHO THE HELL CARES?” the Sheriff roared, Dean and Cas taking a couple steps back. The Sheriff breathed through his nose, calming his racing heart. “He’s not important right now. All that matters is finding those kids. So try giving a damn about what the hell took them instead of wasting your time.” A light clicked in Derek’s head.

“Stiles knew.”

“What?” Derek turned to the Sheriff.

“Stiles. He knew what it was. It was a Wend– Windy–“

“Wendigo,” Cas supplied in realization. Dean furrowed his brow.

“Wendigo? We’re in California. There’s no way one could be this far southwest.”

“He did say the locality was wrong,” Cas said and Derek suddenly hated that this hunter was here. Why couldn’t the thing have taken him? “And it was highly mobile and able mimic both the Lydia and the Sheriff’s voices to divide us. These are consistent with the lore, is it not?” The look on the Sheriff’s face definitely made Derek wish the thing had taken Cas instead.

“It did what?” At least the hunters had the decency to be uncomfortable when the Sheriff’s voice finally broke. Cas looked at the leaf-strewn ground guiltily.

“I’m sorry, that may have been inappropriate to share.”

“Ya think?” Dean muttered under his breath and he cleared his throat. “So,” he clapped his hands together, “we’re looking for a wendigo in California. Super.” Sam shrugged, hurrying to make the situation less awkward.

“We’ve seen weirder. But if it is a wendigo, it would make sense that it dropped Derek. He’s not human, strictly speaking, so it wouldn’t be interested. And it did come from further north, so maybe something drew it here.”

“Hold on,” the Sheriff shook his head, “what the hell is a wendigo?” Dean and Sam met each other’s gaze before Sam looked back to the Sheriff.

“You’re not gonna like this.”


	6. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!
> 
> At the end of this chapter there is canon-like violence, as well as a description of a panic attack. I don't know if it would be triggering to anyone, but better to be safe than sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to the new episode of Teen Wolf airing today. I hope you enjoy it!

The drive from the jeep back to Scott’s was somber and silent. Derek rode in the passenger seat of the cruiser while the black Impala followed close behind. He would have just run back, but the Sheriff was very insistent. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just resigned, and that resignation weighed heavy in the air. It was amazing how completely still and controlled he was compared to Stiles. It made Derek wonder what his mom must have been like, but that only added to the guilt. Here this man was, having lost his wife, now his son. His whole family taken from him, and knowing how that felt, it was something Derek wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“I’m sorry,” he said before he could stop himself. The Sheriff didn’t react, and for a second Derek thought he hadn’t heard him. He debated whether he should repeat himself or not when the Sheriff spoke.

“I know.” His voice was mechanical, neither accusing nor forgiving. Just hollow and emotionless. When he didn’t say more, Derek nodded, dropping his gaze to his knees. Silence fell again and Derek wondered why the Sheriff insisted he ride with him but didn’t ask. The cruiser pulled to a stop in Scott’s driveway, but neither man made a move to get out. The Sheriff had the face of a man lost without a clue as to what needed to happen next. It was almost like he was in a trance. Derek cleared his throat.

“Mr. Stilinski?” The Sheriff inhaled sharply and let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” Derek watched with saddened guilt as the man beside him slowly broke down, tears finally falling after the intense struggle to keep them at bay. Derek wanted to run, maybe give the man some privacy, but he couldn’t look away. He wanted to join him in his tears but restrained himself. It wasn’t his place to share in this sorrow. This was a father’s grief and he couldn’t intrude on that, not when he helped cause it.

“I’ll go on inside,” he said as he opened the passenger side door and stepped out. “Just come in when you’re ready.” The Sheriff didn’t give a response and Derek didn’t wait for one. He shut the door and turned to the now approaching hunters with a schooled expression. Dean returned the expression while Sam glanced into the cruiser and Cas hung back behind the others. They stopped when they’d reached him and Derek crossed his arms.

“Remember, the only reason you’re here is because you’ve dealt with this thing before. After we kill it, we part ways and you leave town.”

“Save the intimidation crap for someone else 'cause we ain't buying it,” Dean said, raising his hand. “How ‘bout we get inside and come up with a plan to get those kids back, assuming we still can.” Derek’s nostrils flared.

“You can at least pretend you care.” As soon as he said the words, he felt a pang in his heart as Stiles’ words echoed. _Maybe you really don’t care._ He hoped the hunters didn’t pick up on that. The Winchesters seemed oblivious but Cas tilted his head in what could be confusion or empathy. His eyes were sad as their gaze met, and Derek couldn't decide if it made him hate the man more or less for still being there. Dean was about to say something else, probably malicious, when Sam cut him off.

“Let’s just get inside and talk about this. It’d be better if we got started as soon as possible.” Derek nodded and led the way into the house before Dean could respond, but he could still hear his mutterings to Sam.

“I’m really starting to hate this guy. I still don’t see why we’re letting him help. I mean we don’t even know what he is! Come on, he almost let Cas get taken along with the kid. Plus his attitude is really starting to piss me off.”

“I don’t know, Dean, I think he tried to save them. Give the guy a break, he was knocked unconscious and just lost his boyfriend. I’m sure he’s a decent enough guy if humans willingly trust him.” Dean laughed under his breath.

“Yea, real charmer.”

“If you two are done arguing,” Derek said as they approached the door, taking some joy out of the shock he caused in the men who clearly thought they were discreet, “we’ve got more important things to focus on.” He turned back to the door, Scott catapulting himself at Derek the moment it opened. His eyes were wide with fear and worry creased his brow as he grasped Derek’s upper arms.

“What the hell’s going on? Stiles is gone and you don’t answer my texts? What’s the hell’s a wendigo?” Allison, Lydia and Isaac stepped into view, stoic, teary-eyed, and shaken respectively, as Derek pushed Scott away, hyperaware of the hunters behind him.

“Get inside, these guys will explain.” Scott looked behind Derek and back to him incredulously.

“Are these the, y’know…?”

“Sam and Dean Winchester, and Cas,” Derek said reluctantly as the men in question stiffened. Allison’s eyes widened.

“Winchester?” she asked disbelieving. Lydia sniffed and looked to Allison.

“You know them?”

“I know of them. My dad mentioned them when I asked about other hunter families a while back. Said they pretty infamous in the community.” Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Wait, you’re a hunter?” Allison straightened her posture and schooled her expression.

“I am.”

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean– it’s just that you’re hanging out with, uh…” Allison raised her eyebrows and Sam cleared his throat. “Never mind, it’s good to meet you.” Allison’s stony gaze didn’t waver as she put her hands on her hips.

“Given the circumstances we can’t say the same. Tell us about this wendigo and how to track it.”

“Well,” Dean said, pushing past the group and walking into the living room, everyone else following, “it’s not pretty. Usually they’re hundreds of years old, but they all started out human. Sometimes an Indian, a frontiersman, a miner, or even a hunter, but they all end up the same. A harsh winter comes, they’re cut off from help or supplies, they resort to cannibalism to survive.” Scott wrinkled his nose while Isaac and Lydia seemed ready to throw up. Sam continued where Dean left off.

“Cultures all over the world believe eating human flesh can give a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality. The more they eat, the less human they become, the more the hunger builds. Eventually it gets to the point that they just can’t stop.”

“They’re unbelievable hunters during the day,” Dean continued as he settled on Scott’s couch, “and even better at night. You want a chance to kill this thing, you’d better wait ‘till morning or you don’t stand a chance.”

“Wait,” Scott nearly shouted, “you said it’s always hungry. If that’s true we can’t wait until morning. We have to get Stiles back now!” Dean shook his head.

“Sorry kid, no can do. Unless you wanna take your chances with that thing, I suggest you stay put.”

“No,” Derek said in a voice more confident than he thought he could manage. “I’m going out to search for him. It doesn’t abduct those who aren’t fully human. Scott and Isaac are coming too.”

“So wait,” Dean waved a hand, looking at Scott and Isaac with suspicion, “they’re monsters too? Are the girls the only humans here except us?” Lydia wiped a tear from her eye and crossed her arms with a more exuding confidence than her tears should have permitted.

“Banshee, actually.” Scott turned to the hunters with a stern gaze.

“And we prefer the term werewolves.” Dean turned to Sam in disbelief. Sam shrugged with reluctant acceptance.

“Guess it’s a weird-ass creature convention after all.”

“There was a lizard last year,” Isaac deadpanned. The Winchesters simultaneously groaned and Cas furrowed his brow.

 

 

The Sheriff sat alone in the cruiser, aware the creature was still out there but indifferent to the threat it posed him. He just couldn’t bring himself to care. If what the Winchesters said was true, his son was probably dead. He almost wished Derek were still sitting next to him. He’d gone to get Stiles and bring him home, but the empty seat beside him was loud and accusing, and as angry as he was, as much as he wanted to blame Derek, he just couldn’t be alone like this. Three shapes flew out of the McCall residence, and the Sheriff huffed.

There were five people in that house, five people who were still way too close to the nemeton and the danger it posed as the central point of the wendigo’s territory. He unclipped his seat belt and pushed the door open before kicking it shut and texting Melissa on his way into the house. There was no way anyone else he loved was going to be taken from him. When next he looked up, he was greeted with five sets of eyes staring at him, their gazes either overly sympathetic or relieved as though finally getting reprieve from an awkward silence.

“We should get going,” he said, shifting uncomfortably under all the attention. When he was met with nothing but confusion, he continued, “If we’re going to wait around, we’re doing it somewhere safe. We’re getting you two home,” he motioned to Allison and Lydia, “and you three,” he turned pointedly to the hunters, “are crashing at my house. I want you somewhere I can keep an eye on you.” Sam and Dean opened their mouths to protest, but one glare and they were rendered silent. Cas cleared his throat and nodded.

“We appreciate the hospitality.”

“Yea, whatever. Just get your asses in gear.” The three hunters nodded, leaving the room with surprising speed, Allison following with a fleeting glance of sympathy. Lydia stopped on her way out, taking in the Sheriff’s state before speaking.

“You’re not okay, are you?” There really was no answer for that.

“I’d be better with a stiff drink.”

 

 

Derek surveyed the caved in space under the nemeton, exactly as it had been the last time any of their group had been down there. Stiles’ scent was still in the air but it was stagnant; he definitely hadn’t been there recently. Hours later, they were still no closer to finding Stiles as they were when they started. The scent, though present, was so dispersed and intermingled with those of the forest that it was impossible to determine where they had gone. Wherever this thing had taken Stiles, they weren’t finding it anytime soon.

When the third hour struck, Derek shouted out in frustration and the next thing he knew, Scott was slamming him into a clawed, beaten up tree and calling his name. Derek’s deep, wavering breaths forcefully escaped as he looked down to see his own hands covered in blood and slowly healing.

“Derek,” Scott said, keeping a too firm grip on Derek’s shoulders, “calm down. We’re not going to find him if you’re trying to break your hands.” Derek glared murderously.

“We’re not finding him anyway so why does it matter?” Scott slammed him against the tree again, eyes glowing red and for the first time, Derek was truly afraid of the alpha.

“Just because you feel guilty doesn’t mean you get to act like you two were so close. He’s my best friend! If I have to keep it together, so do you!”

“Why should I?” Derek asked dangerously. “He’s probably dead by–“ he was cut off by Scott’s fist connecting to his jaw and his body connecting to the ground.

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Derek cracked his neck and pushed himself up, rolling his eyes and looking down at Scott with expressionless eyes. That only made Scott’s anger grow. “Seriously, you have no right to be so affected by this! You’re not even really his friend! Why do you even care so much?” A second later, Scott fell to the base of the tree behind him, Derek looming menacingly over him. Derek could only see red as anger swelled in him with such a force the forest could burst into flames and still be cooler than his rage. He forced himself to calm down as he gazed down at Scott.

“I care," he said cooly. "Trust me, I care.” The silence that followed stretched on as they stared into one another; Scott’s eyes confused and concerned while Derek’s were hard and unyielding. Finally, something gave way in Scott and he nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Derek turned his face and sighed, offering a hand out to Scott, who took it and was on his feet when Isaac ran to his side.

“Scott, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, not looking away from Derek, “I’m fine.” His phone beeped in his pocket and lit his face in cool blue light as he read the text. “Stiles’ dad says to go to his house if it gets too late. He doesn’t want us staying at my house with that thing out there.” Isaac looked awkwardly to Derek before looking back to Scott.

“Derek too?” They shared an unsure gaze as Scott texted back. Three agonizingly slow minutes later they got a response.

_‘If hes ok sleeping on the flor’_

 

 

Stiles coughed uncontrollably as he hung from the… whatever it was he was hanging from by his wrists. Wherever he was, it was impossibly dark. What was it, night? Day? It had only been a few hours after sunset anyway. Probably. More coughs interrupted his thoughts as he found it difficult to breathe. Remembering the slow suffocating death the sacrifices had gone through during the incident with the Darach, he was at least somewhat grateful that his feet could touch the ground. At least if he was going to die it wouldn’t be by asphyxiation. Still, from what he read, it would probably be better than the alternative.

 _Shit,_ he cursed as he tried untying himself in vain. Even if he could get his hands free, he doubted he’d get very far. He looked around, not able to see much more than a few feet in front of his face, but he tried nonetheless. Like his dad said, the best thing to do in abductions is to document as much as possible. He doubted it would help much in this case, but hell, it was better than going batshit crazy or having a panic attack.  It was cold, or maybe it was just his hands. Damn, this was not going according to plan.

“Hello?” he called out. He’d tried screaming earlier, but wherever he was, it was probably too good at absorbing sound waves. He hadn’t gotten a response then and he hadn’t got one now. He kicked the ground in frustration.

“Figures I’d be alone,” he muttered. He would have broken down then had he not heard coughing behind him. He did _not_ scream in fright. He just uttered a very manly not-scared shout of surprise.

“Someone there?” he called out once he'd calmed down. It was a good minute before a girl responded.

“Please be quiet.” Stiles licked his lips and tried turning around to face her. Or at least, face where he'd heard her voice.

“Why?”

“It’s going to come back. It already killed that girl and, and Carlo.”

“Are you Ashley?” A sob.

“It’s gonna kill me next, I know it’s gonna come back and it’s gonna–“

“Whoa, whoa, Ashley, it’s okay. My name’s Stiles. My friends are looking for me now and they’ll find us. Trust me, they’ll get us out of this. You just need to hang on.” A silence. “Okay, poor choice of words, but you get the idea.” Ashley choked a laugh.

“How did this even happen? I don’t understand.”

“Honestly, Ashley, I ask myself that question every day.” There was a growling from behind and everything went still. Ashley began wailing.

“Oh god NO–“ was all she had time to say before the screaming. Tearing and cracking noises filling the air as Stiles was forced to listen to this poor girl’s death. He cringed against the bombarding sounds as his heart pounded into palpitations, and his skin turned to fire and ice. He couldn’t breathe and his pain flared in his chest as if he were the one with a monster’s fangs piercing through him. He had to get out. He had to leave. This wasn’t happening. It was a nightmare. It had to be. He just really had to get out. He needed to wake up. It was a dream. Wake up Stiles. Wake up. Oh god. WAKE UP!

The noises had long since stopped when the panic subsided and he was left trembling and gasping for breath. Just like that, he was alone again.


	7. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some reference to alcoholism in this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this, I was meaning to finish yesterday

“No, absolutely not.”

“Dean, it’s not like there’s much of a choice. There’s hardly enough space as it is, so unless you want to sleep in the Impala–“

“Sam, I would die for you. I have died for you. But like hell I’m sharing a bed with you.” The Winchesters looked down at the blow up mattress now taking up most of the Stilinski living room, a couple large quilts covering its surface. The couch had been pushed back to make room, but Sheriff Stilinski had already taken claim to it, lying still with his arms crossed and apparently asleep. Sam shrugged and awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“You know, Cas will be sharing the bed too.” Dean glanced away, coughing away the fluttery feeling that sprung in his chest. It was hyper-vigilance, definitely. There would be freaking werewolves sleeping in the same house they were. Anyone would feel a little… apprehensive. Of course Dean would think of lying next to newly human Cas, arm wrapped protectively around him while Cas tucked himself into Dean’s embrace. Dean was just concerned in the presence of a major threat. He shook out his shoulders and scoffed.

“Yea, because adding Cas to the mix makes this concept _so_ much more appealing.” Sam smiled tightly, clearly warring between saying something or not, then rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I don’t know, just thought I’d mention it. You know, I don’t think Cas minds.” Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion and adjusted his footing. Something should click but he wasn’t sure. When suddenly it did.

“Oh,” his eyes widened and he felt feverish, “whoa, dude. I uh, ha, I think you’re reading too much into it. He’s not, uh, we’re–” Sam held up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, I just thought I’d mention it.” The Sheriff groaned from the couch and the Winchesters jumped back in surprise. When he didn’t do more, they turned back to each other with uncertainty. Before either Winchester could say more, Cas shuffled into the room, trench coat draped over his arms and dressed in a plain maroon t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. When he noticed Sam and Dean’s gaze on him, he froze.

“Uhm,” Cas said awkwardly, gesturing to the mattress, “I take it we’re sleeping there?” Dean cleared his throat and nodded.

“Uh, yea. We just, uh, we just need to pick a sleeping order. Easy.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” the Sheriff opened his eyes and pushed himself up from the couch, totally not scaring the crap out of the hunters. He pointed to Dean, then Cas, and finally Sam as he spoke.

“You, on the far side, you in the middle and you closest to the couch. If I have to listen to one more emotionally constipated, pseudo-macho conversation I’m gonna pistol-whip each one of you into next week.” The hunters stared uncertainly at the Sheriff, who seemed both confused and concerned at his outburst. After a moment of heavy silence, the Sheriff nodded an apology and left to some other area of the house, muttering ‘don’t steal my spot’ as he left. Dean rounded on Sam.

“Okay, we have to get this guy’s kid back pronto ‘cause he looks about this close to losing it.” Sam shrugged and clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“No argument with getting the kid back, but I’m starting to like the guy.” Dean shot his brother a look before Sam continued. “Anyway,” he tuned to Dean with an evil grin, “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Remember the arrangement.” Sam practically bolted from the room, leaving Dean repressing the warmth in his chest when he remembered he’d be sleeping next to Cas. Because it was totally embarrassment… totally. Dammit, Sam.

 

 

The Sheriff leaned against the kitchen wall with his eyes closed and breathing slowly. He hoped things would be okay, and that Derek or Scott would find Stiles and bring him home safe. He hoped he could have the chance to lecture his son on how unhealthy his all-nighters were or how all those hours of Internet and gaming would ruin his eyesight. He hoped he could have his family together again. Tears stung at his eyes and sorrow washed over, threatening to drown him.

He opened his eyes, line of sight level with the cabinet. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits, but he could allow himself one night of weakness. There wasn’t much he could do now anyway, not without putting other people, good people, at risk. He crossed the room and pulled out a glass.

 

 

When Castiel realized he’d be sleeping next to Dean he felt ill, but in a good way. And kinda warm. Not the same kind of warmth he felt when he watched the video with the pizza man or when he’d gone for a shower after his recent altercation with Dean when their bodies had been so close he could feel of Dean’s body heat through his clothes and Dean’s shirt was secured in Castiel’s grip. He shook his head. No, it wasn’t the same kind of warmth. It was gentle and unassuming. The kind of warmth he’d felt as an angel, but magnified tenfold in his human form.

It scared him. Was this normal? Was their bond supposed to have increased despite the loss of his Grace? As far as he could tell, things were definitely changing, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. Not if it meant he could be losing Dean’s friendship, which was likely given the little he’d overheard. Still, he knew enough to know that overhearing just one part of a conversation could lead to huge mistakes and misunderstandings later on. Dean wasn’t going to push him away, not if he felt the bond as strongly as he did, but he could sense things were definitely changing and that was scary.

“Uh, Cas?” Castiel looked up to Dean’s somewhat concerned face and tilted his head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’ just you were kinda staring into space for the past five minutes and it’s starting to get a little unnerving.” Castiel blinked and thought back. Had he really spent the past five minutes thinking about his feelings for Dean?

“Uh, Cas? You’re doing it again.” This was awkward.

“This is awkward.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said as he glanced to the ground, patting his sides absently, which drew Castiel’s attention down. These were definitely not normal friendship feelings. He looked back up before Dean noticed where his gaze had momentarily gone. Dean looked back, with a tense laugh.

“Well this is gonna be kinda weird. I can’t remember the last time sharing a bed with anyone I had absolutely no intention of sleeping with.” Castiel narrowed confused eyes before the suggestion smacked him in the face. He wasn't even an option to Dean. His throat closed up and his chest felt hollow, but he nodded.

“Uh, yea. Weird.” What else could he say? The air hung heavy around them, things unsaid screaming in the silence. Castiel opened his mouth to say more when Dean quickly motioned in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’m just gonna get ready for bed, sleep, stuff.” He reached a hand out, pat Castiel’s shoulder, and passed by him. Castiel swallowed back emotions and threw his coat onto the couch. He crawled into the center of the mattress, cocooning himself in the cool blanket as waves of dejection washed over him. He didn’t cry, there’d be no point. Dean was entirely within his right after all. What reason would the righteous man have to return a failed angel's longing affections? Rejection was a bitch.

 

 

Melissa waved goodbye to a couple of her colleagues as she pushed open the door of the hospital and stepped into the warm breeze. She was glad she’d left her sweater in the car. She popped her car door open and slid into the driver’s seat. When the door was closed she inhaled deeply as she reached for her phone, still plugged in. She was always scared now, scared that the next text she opened would be someone saying her son was hurt or missing or some other horror. She actually found herself longing for the days Mr. Harris called about Scott missing assignments and tests. At least it was simpler.

A small smile played at her mouth when she saw whom the text was from. When she read the content, the smile was gone.

 

Melissa burst through the door to the Stilinski house and looked around. In the living room there was a man she’d never seen before lying on a blow-up mattress. His uncertain, bright blue eyes were staring into her own.

“Oh, uh,” Melissa shifted uncomfortably under the man’s gaze and crossing her arms, “you must be one of the hunters.” The man blinked and tilted his head.

“You must be Scott’s mom.”

“I am, and proud of it.” A silence.

“Uh, if you’re looking for the Sheriff, he went that way.” Melissa looked over her shoulder towards the dining room. Her boyfriend’s history flashed to her mind as she turned back to the hunter.

“Thanks. And stay away from my son.”

“I’ll do my best.” Melissa gave him a double thumbs-up before turning on her heel and making her way to the dining room. She looked in carefully, seeing her boyfriend’s back to her as he sat partly leaning on the table and the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She hoped it hadn’t been full at the start of the night.

“Honey?” she asked softly, stepping into the room. He didn’t react, even when she stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. Finally, he tilted the empty glass in his hand and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“God, what’s happening?” Melissa sighed and pulled one of the other chairs close and sat next to him, her hand sliding down his arm as she did so.

“I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through right now. If it were Scott, I don’t know what I would do.” She eyed the bottle with a mix of disappointment and understanding before looking back.

“Did y’know this is the first time I pulled out that damn air mattress since we got it?” he said with a sad smile and a side-glance, the abrupt change startling Melissa, though she kept quiet. “We planned on going camping every summer when we first got married before Claudia– something always came up. It just sat there in the basement, but I always thought, next summer, next summer.” Melissa nodded and stroked his upper arm with her thumb.

“They’ll get Stiles back. Isaac, Scott, Derek; they’re out there looking for him. I know Scott won’t stop, no matter what.”

“I trust Scott a Scott. Lot a Scott. Lot a–” Melissa cut him off with a terse laugh.

“You mean 'Scott a lot'?” Her boyfriend nodded.

“He’s a good friend to him… he talks about Derek sometimes.”

“Who, Scott?”

“No, my son.” Melissa raised her eyebrows.

“Oh yea? Anything specific?” He shrugged.

“Goes on about how hard Derek tries, and how much he respects him for all that,” he waved one hand vaguely in the air, the other still wrapped around the glass, “with his family, then those kids. He’d say Derek would find him if he were here. He was pissed after Derek left, but the other night he was back, he smiled a lot. I miss his smiles. Hard to believe that wasn’t so long ago…” Melissa grabbed his hand as he reached for the bottle again and their eyes locked. Melissa kept her gaze stern but gentle as he stared back with confusion and something else. Finally he smiled softly and took his hand back.

“This isn’t fair is it?” Melissa shook her head.

“No, it isn’t, but I don’t blame you. Just make sure you don’t do this again or I will take action. I’m a nurse, and we’re known to get very vicious when it comes to health issues.” He smirked and looked up at her sheepishly.

“You can have my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” He made a move to get up, but Melissa grabbed his hand. Normally, she would have agreed, but given the circumstances, it didn’t sit right with her to let him be alone, even if it was alone with strangers.

“No, we can share tonight.”

“You sure? Someone should keep an eye on those," he gestured wildly towards the living room, "idiots.”

“I’m sure. But just sleeping, understand?” He nodded and stumbled a bit standing up.

“Understand, understood.” Melissa tried to hide her smile. Somehow he was kind of adorable when he was drunk.

“Oh, you’re going to be so hung-over tomorrow.”

“Good thing I have a nurse on McCall then.” Melissa shook her head and rolled her eyes. Why did she have to be dating such a dork? But then-

"I love you." She didn't think she heard right, maybe he was just too far gone. Either way, warmth touched her face and she smiled wider.

“Okay, hon, let’s get you to bed.”

 

 

Derek followed Scott and Isaac morosely into the Stilinski house around four in the morning. The sudden bombardment of Stiles sent his heart rate up and for that spilt second he thought, maybe. When rationality struck, it struck hard and his own failure shouted loudly at him. He rubbed his tired eyes and adjusted to the dark. The hunters lay sleeping in the living room, one on the couch and two tangled on a blow up mattress. He barely paid them a glance before the others were making their way up the stairs and he did the same.

“Hold on,” Scott mumbled as he stopped their ascent, “you hear that?”

“Let it go, Scott,” Isaac said, pushing him up the stairs.

“Dude, my mom–“

“Scott, chill. Deal with it in the morning. They’re asleep now anyway.” Scott grumbled the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall, something about explanations, but Derek wasn’t paying attention anymore.

They were in Stiles’ room. It was different from the last time he’d been there, messier. He was pretty sure the bed, on which three sleeping bags rested, had been moved but he couldn’t be sure.

“So I take it none of us are getting the bed?” Isaac picked up one of the sleeping bags and turned it over in his hands. “Seems like a bit of a waste, really.”

“Shut up, Isaac,” Derek said as he grabbed one of the sleeping bags for himself and rolled it out next to the doorway. Isaac seemed ready to argue, but one headshake from Scott kept him silent. Once they had all settled, the other two had fallen asleep easily, Scott albeit a troubled sleep, but asleep all the same.

Derek rolled onto his back and stared at Stiles’ ceiling, hating the fact that Stiles couldn’t do the same.


	8. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little longer than I planned. There's a part in the middle I'm not too sure of, but I'm leaving it in just because. Next update might not be for a little while because of school and other reasons, but I'll do my best to get it up as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this one!

Stiles jerked awake, disoriented and wondering where he was and why he ached all over; excruciatingly so in his shoulders but dulling outward to his numb hands and legs. He was blind. Wait, no, not blind. It was just dark. Why was it dark? He groaned and rolled his stiff neck, reveling in the relief each painful ‘ _crack!_ ’ brought. 

A scream from the side brought all his memories back and he cried out from the force of it. The scream may have also caught him by surprise. He twisted himself until he could see the faint outline of a person a few yards away. Stiles gasped for breath, reining back the panic that had nearly consumed him.

“Oh my god,” a smile teased at his mouth, “That’s one way to wake up, don’cha think?” The other person didn’t seem to share his brilliant sense of humor.

“Where am I? Who are you?” the man asked with a wavering voice. Stiles cracked his neck again and flexed his fingers, hoping to any god who was listening that there wouldn’t be any permanent damage. Given the circumstances, it probably wasn’t the most relevant thing he should be wishing for. It was then he realized the implications of a new body in that place. He remembered what happened to the last person when someone new was brought in. He considered the man’s question.

"You’re in hell, and I’m your torture.”

 

 

Scott heard someone muttering his name and felt some dull thuds against his side, but couldn’t will himself to move until one came particularly forceful. He opened his eyes and sat bolt upright with a cry at the pain in his side. Closing his gaping mouth, he looked up to see Derek standing over him, lowering his leg from it’s kick-ready position. Scott groaned and rubbed the dulling pain away.

“Dude, just cause we heal don’ mean it still doesn’ hurt,” he grumbled sleepily. Derek just turned his attention to Isaac, a determined look on his face.

“You’ll live. We need to get going. Sun’s up.” Scott groaned.

“Aw, man, how long has it been? Like five minute since we got back?” God, he was so tired, and it was still so damn dark. If the sun was up it was, doing a shit job at being the sun. Isaac gasped in pain when Derek grew impatient, but Derek hardly paid any mind as he turned back to Scott.

“You can sleep when we find Stiles. We need to get a move on if we’re going to make that happen.” Scott was on his feet in seconds as Isaac glared up at Derek.

“And good morning to you too,” said Isaac. “You know, I almost missed wake up calls like this. Just like the good ol’ days with dear old Dad.” Derek glanced upwards before looking back down to Isaac.

“Look, I’m sorry. But we need to get a move on. So get up.” Isaac rolled his eyes, climbed out of his sleeping bag, and tried to pat down his hair into a more presentable style.

“Yea, whatever.”

 

 

Dean grumbled in his sleep, took a deep inhale and sighed contentedly. This was the longest he could remember sleeping in a long time. A good four and a half hours, maybe even five. Who knew sleeping on an air mattress could be so blissful? Or smell so good? Like _really_ good. KInda like a weird but wonderful combination of watermelon and cinnamon. Wait, what was going on with his arms? He cracked an eye opened carefully. Then both eyes were open faster than he would have thought possible.

Sam had relocated to the couch at some point in the night, leaving him and Cas alone on the bed. Looking down, the first thing Dean saw was mussed up, dark hair as Cas lay there, face nestled into Dean’s neck. His own arm was wrapped securely around Cas’ torso while the other rested straight out under him in the direction of the couch. Cas’ arms, on the other hand, were both wrapped tightly around Dean while one leg was hiked over Dean’s hip and the other between Dean’s legs. It should have been uncomfortable, hell, it _was_ uncomfortable, but somehow, Dean didn’t mind. It actually felt nice. Weird, but nice.

Then Cas moved. Dean tensed as Cas adjusted his hold on him and pressed impossibly closer into Dean’s space. Dean could feel Cas smile against his neck. And suddenly, it wasn’t weird anymore, and that was weird. Why wasn’t it weird? There was a freaking dude in his arms, freaking snuggling into his space. It should have been weird as hell. But it this was Cas. Somehow, it was different, and that was the weirdest weird.

Dean was debating whether he should wake Cas up or not, when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see that Lydia chick from the day before leaning against the threshold with her arms crossed a prim smile on her face, though her eyes were dark, like she’d been up all night and even that under-eye makeup crap couldn’t quite cover it. Then Dean remembered the state he was in.

“Oh, uh,” his voice rumbled through his chest and Cas rubbed his nose over Dean’s collarbone. That was so not helping things. “This isn’t– I–“

“Allison and I thought we’d come over early to help get things going,” Lydia interrupted as she flipped her hair back. “Flare guns and Molotov cocktails are in the kitchen. Mr. Argent’s getting breakfast together with the boys. Better hurry though,” she pushed herself off the wall and her expression became doll-like, “they eat like wolves.” She smiled viciously before heading in the direction of the stairs. Dean shook his head.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I was gonna say the same thing.” Dean whipped his head to see Sam propping himself up on his elbow with the biggest shit-eating grin he’d worn in a long time as he looked down on his brother’s state. Dean retracted his arm from Cas, shaking his head and sputtering.

“I– no–“

“Dude, it’s okay. I’m just glad you two are finally being honest with each other.” Dean gaped at his brother, words failing him, before he was distracted by Cas’ grunt as he stirred into consciousness. When Cas registered what was happening he tensed, then jumped across the bed as if burned, an expression of the utmost horror on his face as he met Dean’s eyes.

“Dean– uh– it’s– uh– sorry.” The look in Cas’ eyes and the way he pushed himself away so forcefully pained Dean in a way he wasn’t at all comfortable with or sure about. It made him want to reach out and reassure Cas, but instead, Dean just sat up and shrugged.

“Hey man, don’t worry about it,” he scratched behind his ear as he pointedly looked away from the fearful edge to Cas’ gaze. “We’re sharing a house with freaking werewolves. It was some, subconscious, uh, thing.” He saw Cas nod in his periphery.

“Right.”

Both men started when Sam’s clap cut through the air. The moose of a man twisted into a seated position, then stood and gestured toward the kitchen.

“I’m just gonna help with breakfast. Come n’ get it when you’re, uh, when you’re ready.” Sam stalked off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the living room. Cas pursed his lips and Dean averted his eyes. Why was this so awkward? The last time he felt this kind of awkward around someone he was sixteen and… oh. Oh no. Dean cleared his throat.

“So, uh, kitchen?”

 

 

Stiles’ breath was no more than short, heavy bursts difficult to draw in but all to eager to escape his lungs as the wendigo leaned in behind him. It snuffled hot puffs against the back of his neck, its vibrating growl raising the hair on his neck as his heart felt like it was being pulled out of his chest, which seemed like a horrifically logical progression of events at the moment. He screwed his eyes shut and whimpered softly. No, this wasn’t the time to show weakness. This thing could no doubt sense his fear. He needed to calm his thundering heart and-

The thing growled louder and a choked sob escaped Stiles’ throat, an “oh god” closely following. Yea, this bravery thing definitely wasn’t working. Sheer willpower was completely impotent against the knowledge that mere inches from his jugular were a set of razor sharp teeth belonging to a murderous… thing. A monster. Impending doom.

The wendigo huffed once more against his skin, startling a shudder from Stiles, before retreating. When he was sure it was leaving him alone, Stiles allowed his fisted hands to relax slightly above his head and allowed the tears to fall. Not gracefully either, but the sort of gross sobbing that would be utterly humiliating had he actually cared what the other man in the room thought of him.

Stiles wasn’t one to pray, but in that moment, all he could do was beg any listening force of the universe for someone, anyone, to come for him. The more desperate his pleas, the more he felt he was truly nearing his end.

Then the man started screaming and it was Ashley all over again.

 

 

An hour and a very heated argument after breakfast, three groups were scouting the forest. Snippets of conversation flitted through Derek’s head as he sniffed the air for the hundred thousandth time in the past forty-eight hours.

            -

_“No way am I leaving my brother alone with one ’a you!”_

_“Having a wolf in each group is a strategic advantage. They can hunt in a way we can’t and we can build of each others’ strengths. The fact this wendigo won’t abduct them is an added bonus.”_

_“I don’t care what the advantages are, I ain’t leavin’ him or Cas.”_

_“Dean, it’s our best shot of finding this thing.”_

_“Sam–“_

_“Look, we don’t wanna do this either. But Allison and her father are right. And we’re wasting time as it is.”_

_-_

In the end Dean was persuaded, and roamed the forest with the Sheriff and Derek on a search and rescue mission that was more search than rescue. Stiles wasn’t going to hold out for much longer. If they didn’t find him soon, Derek worried if they would find him at all or what they would find when they did. Oh god, what if he was already mauled beyond recognition? What if he was screaming and they couldn’t hear him? What if–

“I don’t blame you.” Derek looked up to see the Sheriff had wandered closer to him in their sweep of the area. He’d been wearing sunglasses virtually all morning and the distinctive scent of a hangover followed him as he moved. His words confused Derek for a moment.

“Sir?”

“I was just, last night I was scared and angry, and I lashed out. I know you didn’t need that on you, and it wasn’t fair. I doubt there’s anything anyone could have done given the circumstances. And I want you to know that I know it’s not your fault. And, um, thanks. For not giving up on him. For still looking.”

If air existed, in that moment, Derek didn’t know what it was. That couldn’t be right. Derek listened for the Sheriff’s heartbeat, searching for the tell-tale skip of deception. He sniffed the air for that acrid scent of a lie. Negative on both accounts. The Sheriff, through some impossible twist in events, didn’t blame him for Stiles’ disappearance. He was _thanking_ him. He was telling him it wasn’t his fault. It was all Derek could do not to stop right there in the middle of the trees, the dirt and the rocks and break down. Instead, he nodded and kept his face stoic.

“I would never give up on him.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

“Gimme a break,” Dean muttered from where he stood, and Derek rounded towards him with a glare.

“If you’re going to act like a petulant twelve-year old, at least speak up so everyone can hear.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head.

“Dude, sorry I find it a little weird you two are having a heart to heart, considering.” Derek rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been over this. If I wanted to rip out your heart, I would have done it while you were sleeping. Different breeds, different motivations.”

“Yea, okay, I get it. Anger, anchors, whatever. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Derek ignored the hunter as he focused back onto looking for any sign that they could find Stiles. A few minutes later, the Sheriff’s phone beeped in his pocket. Derek watched as the Sheriff answered and his face fell.

“Right, thanks Sarah. No, no, I’m sure you can handle it. Just let me know if anyone else calls… thanks.” He hung up the phone and turned to Derek.

“A woman called in this morning to say her husband took their dog for a walk last night. The dog came back, but he didn’t.” Derek’s blood ran cold. He tried to process the information as a coincidence. People went missing all the time for all kinds of reasons. But this was Beacon Hills. If the wendigo was already out searching for new victims… things were not looking good for Stiles.

Screaming in the distance. Gunshots. And Dean took off running.

 

 

An hour and a very heated argument after breakfast, three groups were scouting the forest. Allison and Isaac walked ahead, discussing possibilities and the best methods of tracking both the creature and the victims, while Castiel and Lydia brought up the rear. Castiel tried following the conversation, but they as well have been speaking some ancient dialect that had been lost to the ages three millennia ago, one he couldn't remember. Castiel looked down at the worn down face of Lydia Martin. She may have been walking with confidence and face set with determination, but her eyes told a different story.

“You’re worried about Stiles.” Lydia glanced up at him, a softer gaze than the first time they’d met, but still not fully trusting.

“Of course. He’s one of my best friends.” Castiel nodded.

“You have feelings for him?” Lydia snorted as if she considered the notion ridiculous.

“He’s not my type. There’s nothing wrong with him, I mean he treats me well and with the respect I deserve, but I see Stiles more as an annoying brother than the face over me during climax.” Castiel’s eyes bugged out and he thought he might choke. Lydia raised her eyebrows and sniggered.

“Wow, wasn’t expecting so hilarious a reaction.”

“Well, uh, I wasn’t expecting, um, that.” Lydia narrowed her eyes but didn’t comment on how red Castiel must have been. Instead she shrugged and took the conversation in a different direction.

“So how long have you and Dean been going out?” The red in Castiel’s face intensified and the more aware he grew of it, the worse he could feel it getting. The tightness in his chest didn’t help either.

“We should be focused on finding your friend. He’s still in danger–”

“Please,” Lydia interrupted, “After breaking into the science lab last night for cocktail ingredients and the constant fear of losing someone I care about, I could use a distraction as mundane as relationship statuses.” Castiel sighed.

“We’re not going out.”

“Oh, then what’s going on between you two? Last I saw, you were pretty cozy with one another.” Castiel looked around, as if the cure for the aching in his chest could be hiding in the branches. They were supposed to be searching for the Stiles child, why were they discussing Dean? He was going to tell her that.

“Dean doesn’t see me as a potential partner,” he said instead. “He exclusively prefers women, and I fail to meet that standard. Besides, he deserves better–“

“Don’t say he deserves better than you,” Lydia interrupted. “A, that’s not attractive on anyone. And B, I saw you two. The way he looked at you, it was like there was no other place he’d rather be.” Hope sparked in Castiel’s chest despite his best efforts to snuff it out.

“You think so?”

“Yea,” Lydia said with sincerity, “don’t give up on yourself. Before you know it, he’ll have you in a passionate kiss and it’ll be like a world on fire.” Castiel furrowed his brow.

“I’ve seen a world on fire. It was far from pleasant.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been to Hell.” Lydia was evidently confused, but the commotion ahead brought back their attention.

“I think we’ve got something,” Allison knelt down, fingers tracing the ground. “There was a struggle here. I don’t think it was Stiles, but it might have been another abductee. They tried taking off in the direction we came, so they must have been running from something–“

Screaming in the distance. Gunshots. And Allison fell to the ground with her hand on her heart.

 

 

An hour and a very heated argument after breakfast, three groups were scouting the forest. Scott sniffed at the air with Melissa by his side while Sam and Chris followed at a reasonable distance. Every so often, Chris would stop and take a closer look at patterns in the earth, marks on trees, or breaks in foliage. Sam looked around and cleared his throat.

“So why them?” Chris hummed in acknowledgement as he stood, but didn’t elaborate. Sam nodded to Scott up ahead.

“This pack. Why don’t you hunt them?” Chris looked Sam up and down, sizing him up. Finally he looked up to meet Sam’s inquisitive gaze.

“’Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes.’” The sudden French was confusing to say the least. Sam furrowed his brow. Chris motioned for them to follow Scott, which they did. “It means ‘we protect those who cannot protect themselves.’ It’s our code, and McCall’s pack helps us uphold it.” Sam laughed in disbelief.

“I’ve never heard of hunters siding up with the other side and have it end well. For either side.” Chris shrugged.

“It hasn’t always worked out. Originally we hunted them, back when this area was claimed by the Hales before Scott became an alpha. Our code then was, ‘nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.’ Or, ‘we hunt those who hunt us.’”

“What happened?” Chris looked distant, like he was remembering things he'd rather forget.

“Too many pointless deaths. Both on our side and theirs. We found it better to work as a united front against the real killers.” Sam nodded.

“I get that. But they’re just kids.”

“I know.”

“I can hear you!” Scott shouted back from far ahead of them. The two men looked up in time to see Melissa McCall giving them the death stare from up ahead.

“Are you talking smack about my son?” Both men shook their heads adamantly. Melissa raised her brow pointedly, her voice dangerous, “Good. If I hear you’re insulting my baby without my permission, you’ll have to face me. And I’ll make sure I’m so much worse than _anything_ you’ve hunted before. Do I make myself clear?” Sam and Chris nodded as she smiled and turned back around, Scott talking to her like a teenager whose parent just embarrassed them in front of the whole class, which now that Sam thought about it, seemed likely. A part of him wondered what that was like.

He turned to Chris to ask another question when a metallic _clang!_ like metal hitting bone echoed through the air. In the time it took him to look back to where Melissa and Scott were, the kid was gone and Melissa was screaming. Sam raised his gun and sprinted forward. If he couldn’t get the kid, he could protect Melissa. But _why_ did this thing take Scott. A _werewolf_?  He reached Melissa and fired into the trees when he saw the thing leap from one tree to the other in one, blindingly fast motion. Melissa kept shouting and calling out.

“SCOTT! SCOTT HONEY, PLEASE! SCOTT!” Sam kept his eyes on the trees as Chris did what he could to both keep an eye out for the wendigo and calm Melissa’s frantic searching for any sign of the thing that took her son. Sam heard Dean’s voice before something grabbed him and the world went black.


	9. Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know I said it would be a while before I updated, but your comments made me so tickled pink I had to update (even if it's still late-ish compared to my usual). 
> 
> I explained some things here, but I think the explanation made more sense in the outline than actually typed up. I was a little rushed too with school.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)

“Allison!” Lydia dropped to her knees by her friend's side and placed her hands on Allison's shoulders. Allison took several deep breaths and lowered her hand from its place on her chest, the mysterious pain disappearing as suddenly as it appeared but the ominous feeling that something was horribly wrong lingered.

“Something’s wrong,” she shook her head. “We have to find the others.” Lydia her grip and helped Allison to her feet.

“You sure you’re alright? You don’t look too good.”

“I’m fine,” Allison said, slightly irritated. “Let’s just go.”

“What about the tracks you found?” Cas narrowed his eyes as he glanced between Allison and the ground.

“We’ll pick up the trail later,” Isaac snapped, anxiously inching toward the direction the noises were coming from. “That was Melissa screaming.” Allison nodded, sympathetic to Isaac’s worry.

“Isaac’s right, let’s go.”

 

 

 

“Where the hell is my brother?” Dean raised his gun to Chris, red fury coursing through him. It took an extraordinary amount of willpower not to blow then man’s head off.

“Put the gun down, Dean,” Chris said in a dangerously calm tone that pissed Dean off. “We’re not going to get anywhere by pointing guns at each other.”

“Not gonna get anywhere by trusting monsters either.” The second the sentence was out, Dean’s gun was forced away from Chris and a fist collided with his face. “Ah, SONOVABITCH!” He dropped the gun and brought his hands to his blood smeared nose. Between the pain and watery eyes, a wrathful Melissa McCall was glaring murder at him.

“Don’t you _dare_ use that word when you talk about my son or I’ll do more than turn that pretty face of yours into an ugly one,” she spoke so low Dean had no doubt she’d make good on her promise. “And in case you haven’t noticed, _he’s not here either_. So instead of acting like a psychotic nut job with a gun, pull your head out of your ass and work with us to get them back!”

“Melissa!” The Sheriff stepped into view from behind the trees, Derek in tow. Melissa sobbed and ran into her boyfriend’s arms. She ducked her head into his chest, pulled him into a tight hug and wept.

"It took Scott.” The Sheriff embraced her before she’d gotten the words out. His one arm tightly around her waist, hand resting on the small of her back, while he gently stroked her hair with the other.

“We’ll find them,” he said with determination, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty and fear. “I swear to you, we’re finding our boys and we’re bringing them home safe.” Dean rolled his eyes and wiped blood from his face. His nose wasn’t broken, but it still hurt like hell. He glowered in the couple’s direction.

“Yea, that platitude crap is nice and all, but sayin’ something ain’t the same as doin’ it. We gotta find a way to get my brother and those kids back or all that talk is for shit.” A noise from behind made Dean turn to see Cas and the others break through the tree line. That Isaac kid took one look at Melissa, then rushed past the hunters to her side. She took one arm back from the Sheriff to wrap around Isaac, then let her forehead rest on the boy's shoulder. Suddenly Dean felt a pang of guilt for his words. They were still true, but seeing these people, monsters and people alike, look like an actual family that suffered a loss, made him wish he hadn’t been so harsh. Then his thoughts went back to Sam.

“Dean.” Cas stood a little ways off, almost hesitant to approach while the girls hurried over to Chris. The sight of Cas there and okay made something within Dean want to reach out and touch him. To have Cas wrap his arms around him and murmur those same platitudes in his ear about saving Sam and bringing him home, being a family again. But something else within Dean, the long-dormant part that was still his father’s good soldier, revolted against that notion. It screamed that he should be fighting for Sam right now, not wanting to curl up in someone else’s arms like some weak civilian, much less curl up into the arms of someone like Cas. Damn, he how weak was he?

“It’s fine,” he snapped, and Cas started with surprise and dejection in his eyes. Dean looked away before the guilt could catch up with him. Too late. “Once we get Sam back, it’ll be fine,” he said more softly. 

"Sam's... gone?" Cas asked, fear wavering his voice.

“What I wanna know,” Chris said as he crossed his arms, “is why this thing took Scott. The way I understood, a wendigo only takes human victims.” Melissa looked up and glared.

“God, can we please not use the word ‘victim’ like they’re already dead?”

“Sorry,” Chris nodded in apology, before turning to Dean. “We still don’t know why or how Scott was taken. He’s an alpha. It’s gonna take a little more than that thing’s got to keep him contained.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yea,” Dean scoffed, “if containment’s the plan.” Melissa took her arms back from the Sheriff and Isaac to place her hands on her hips.

“Do I have beat social tact into you or are you gonna shut your mouth on your own?” Dean shook his head, taking a slight step back from her. Only a slight step, though, it’s not like he was scared of a petite nurse. Definitely not afraid.

“Wait,” Derek said, a tentative look on his face. “Stiles’ bat. Did anyone see it after he was taken?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked impatiently. This was ridiculous. Who the hell cared why this kid or his bat was taken? Sam needed him. Sam was the only thing that mattered. Derek leveled Dean with a scowl. Seriously, did the guy even have a good side?

“If the wendigo has the bat, it can use it to keep Scott from shifting. If there’s still ointment or whatever on it, it’ll keep him human and he won’t be able to escape.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “If it worked that way, it would have taken you when it took Stiles. Why would it take Scott and not you? What is it that makes him different?”

“He’s an alpha,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

“No,” Allison said in realization, “that’s not it. I mean, yea, he’s an alpha, but that’s not what makes him different to the wendigo.” Derek furrowed his brow.

“Then what does?” Allison shook her head.

“I don’t know for sure, but I know who will. We need to go see him, I don’t think calling from here is safe.” Dean set his jaw and glared murderously.

“Like hell I’m leaving my brother.”

 

 

 

Sam gasped, breathing out harsh, echoing breaths as he took in his position. It was dark. That was for sure. His shoulders ached and his arms were over his head. _Figures,_ he thought sardonically. He grunted, trying to find some slack in the ties, but to no avail.

“Dean?” Sam paused. It couldn’t be. Stiles?

“Sam, actually, “ he said, facing the general direction the kid’s voice came from. If only he could _see_.

“Oh, sorry. I thought– never mind. Wait no, you’re here too?”

“Uh, yea?”

“What about everyone else? Have you seen my dad? Is he okay? What about Derek? God, last I saw of him the wendigo–“

“Whoa, easy there, kid,” Sam said, still feeling a little disoriented. “I can’t answer everything at once.”

“Right. Um, is my dad okay?” Sam was hesitant to answer. How much should he say? The man was definitely a recovered alcoholic. Sam recognized the signs. If he and the kid were as close as he thought they were, telling him his dad spent most of the night drunk would be devastating.

“Well, he’s taking it pretty hard,” Sam began. “He had us over last night, but mostly kept to himself.”

“In the kitchen?”

“… Yea.”

“Oh.” Silence. “And um, and Derek? How’s he?”

“Ah, he’s miserable. He’s been pretty hostile and aggressive–”

“He’s always like that,” Stiles interrupted sardonically. Poor kid, probably losing faith at this point. Sam tried his best to sound sympathetic.

“Even so, he hasn’t stopped looking. Just knowing him one day, I can tell how much he cares for you. He won’t give up until he finds you.”

“Yea,” Stiles breathed, “yea, I’m sure he cares a whole freaking lot about me. Derek freaking Hale cares about me. He sure has a freaking funny way of showing it. Or sorry, no, not showing it until I’m freaking abducted by some carnivorous flesh-eating monster that could potentially tear me apart at any possible moment. You know, it’s so like him to use my freaking abduction to find another thing to feel guilty about. He’s such a freaking asshole.“ Sam was confused.

“That’s a weird way to talk about your boyfriend.”

“What? Derek’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Sam was really confused now. “Well I just assumed. I mean, neither of you denied it before, and he always looked so sour–“

“No, that’s just how his stupid face is.”

“Oh,” Sam said, thinking over everything. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “But, um, but you like him though. Don’t you?”

“Wha–“ Stiles squawked. “Dude, we’re in a freaking _cave_ and you’re a freaking _hunter_. I didn’t even know your name until like five seconds ago!”

“Okay, alright,” Sam said in defeat, “I just thought you’d want something else to focus on instead of the fact that we’re in a ‘freaking cave’ and I’m a ‘freaking hunter’.”

“Right," Stiles said with both exasperation and exhaustion, "sorry. I’m just a little high strung right now.” A pause. “Okay, the pun was totally unintentional. Mostly. But I guess I should at least thank you for not killing him. Derek I mean. So, uh, thanks.”

“Yea, no problem.” The two fell into silence again. Sam wriggled his wrists and twisted his arms, but the bindings held. He grunted in pain as he turned the wrong way.

“Dude, I’ve tried untying myself like a million times. You aren’t getting out anytime soon.”

“Gee, thanks for the helpful advice.”

“Yea, no problem buddy. Advising is sort of my life, y’know? Usually they don’t heed it, but hey, sucks to be them. Amirite?” Sam shook his head with a small smile. This kid was a piece of work.

“Are we really in a cave?”

“I think so, I mean I heard dripping earlier, but that could have been– we’re probably in a cave.” Stiles grew quiet again, but this time was different.

“You okay?”

“Huh? Oh yea, I’m fine. Except that I had to listen as a girl I saw around school was torn apart. Same with some guy who came in after me, but I didn’t have to actually see it, so that’s something.”

“So wait, it just skipped you over? The wendigo didn’t try to eat you?”

“Oh wow, you’re so sensitive, thank you,” the sarcasm was definitely strong with this one, “but no. I mean, it almost did, but then it backed off. I’m still trying to figure out why.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sam said, more confused than ever, “this thing isn’t following the pattern. For one, it’s way farther south than it should be. It’s keeping you alive for some reason. It took a werewolf–“

“What?!” Stiles interrupted, a note of hysteria in his voice, “It took one of the pack? Who?” Shit.

“Scott.”

“ _Scott’s here?_ And you’re just telling me _now?_ ”

“You’re right, I should have told you earlier. But things are a little hectic at the moment, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yea, I can not see that,” Stiles said in the dark. “God, I hope he’s okay. He should be recovered and fighting if the wendigo took him by force.” The kid’s voice was panicked and he sounded like he could lose it at any moment. Sam could practically hear him shuddering from across the room. Space? Wherever they were. He had to calm Stiles down.

“You sure have a thing for werewolves, don’t you?” Stiles’ nervous laughter filled the air.

“Dude, no. Scott’s like my brother. That’s disgusting.”

“And yet, you didn’t say no to liking Derek.”

“Oh my god, do you have anything better to talk about than my love life? Seriously, what kind of conversationalist are you?” Sam laughed. At least the kid was somewhat distracted now, and he definitely needed it. Tied up and alone in the dark while a monster viciously killed those around him, that would be enough to drive anyone insane. Let alone the constant terror that the same monster would be coming for you next. And if Sam was being honest, it wasn’t just the kid he was trying to distract.

 

 

 

“ _A wendigo?_ ” the man called Deaton said through the phone. “ _That’s a little surprising_.” The phone lay on the hood of the Impala where all members of the search party were gathered, well away from the abduction sites.

“A little surprising?” Dean growled under his breath. “This is the freaking expert?” Castiel almost reached out to Dean but stopped before his hand could do more than twitch. He wouldn’t appreciate it with the mood he was in. All that mattered to him now was Sam, and Castiel understood. He needed Sam to be safe too.

“We were hoping for a little more than ‘a little surprising’,” Allison’s voice drew Castiel’s attention back to the task at hand.

“ _Sorry,_ _I just thought that the first creature you’d encounter would have been more local._ ”

“What?” Dean exclaimed, leaning in aggressively towards the phone, a cursory glance around at those surrounding the car. “You mean to say you expected something like this to happen? And you did _nothing_? What the hell, man?”

“ _Do you want my help or not?_ ” Dean’s jaw set but he stepped back. Castiel shuffled slightly closer only to have Dean stiffen. He tried not to take it personally. Deaton continued.

“ _The wendigo is here because it’s drawn to Beacon Hills._ ”

“Yea, the relighting of the beacon, we know,” Allison said hurriedly, “but how does that help us get the boys back?”

“ _That’s only part of the story._ ”

“This whole ‘being vague’ thing is getting a little old, don’t you think?” Lydia snapped, stepping closer to Allison and the phone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“ _It’s true that the surrogate sacrifice of Allison, Scott, and Stiles relit the beacon, drawing supernatural forces here. But it also placed a darkness in your hearts, which also draws these forces to you._ ”

“Why is it drawn to us?”

“ _The darkness amplifies their strength. Scott, Isaac, Lydia, even the twins have been feeling the effects too, though you may not have noticed with how quiet it was until as of late and Lydia learning to control her power.”_

“So they’re like, what. Supernatural steroids?” Lydia asked.

 “That’s why it took Scott but not Derek,” Isaac realized. “It was drawn to Scott’s darkness and wants to keep him close.” Allison nodded, a sad smirk on her face.

“So I was right. That’s what makes him different to the wendigo.” Chris looked wearily to his daughter.

“Which means it’ll be after you next.” Allison seemed nervous, but she set her jaw, nodded, and turned back to the phone.

“So this thing is collecting all the surrogate sacrifices. What does this mean for Scott and Stiles?”

“ _It’s possible the wendigo didn’t realize that’s what it’s trying to do. It no doubt felt inexplicably drawn to Stiles and grew confused enough to only take him and leave the hunter alone. When he sensed the darkness in Scott, it could have felt compelled to collect him too._ ”

“So Stiles could be okay?” Derek asked with what seemed like to first glint of hope in his eyes Castiel had seen in the man in all the time he’d known him while the Sheriff looked like this was the first time he was truly breathing since Stiles was abducted. They might have thought they’d been on a mission to recover his body, but now that it was possible they’d been wrong, their fight and fervor had returned, though Melissa was still on the verge on tears.

“ _It’s a possibility, but the longer he stays with it, the stronger the temptation. The darkness will only make the wendigo wary of taking such permanent measures to keep him close. Despite that and echo, Stiles is still very human._ ”

“Echo?” the Sheriff asked, confused and a little wary.

 _“The darkness in their hearts forges a certain bond between them and the supernatural. Because of this bond, they begin to echo the abilities of the supernatural around them. It's nowhere near the extent of the original powers, but does affect them._ ”

“That’s why Allison collapsed in the forest,” Lydia realized. “She’s around me all the time, and since I sense when someone is close to death, she must have been doing something similar.”

“ _It’s strongest when she uses her echo to sense the other surrogates, but essentially yes.”_ Derek took a deep breath, seeming to be battling a horrible thought.

“So, is Stiles…?”

“ _They’d have to be in close proximity for a lot more than a day or two for there to be any affect, permanent or otherwise. I sincerely doubt Stiles is echoing the wendigo._ ” Both the Sheriff and Derek huffed sighs of relief. Deaton continued.“ _Right now, your worry should be getting them all out. You said the wendigo used the bat on Scott?”_ Melissa nodded, then closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, no doubt realizing there was no way Deaton couldn’t hear silent gestures.

“Yea,” she said in a tight voice, “that’s what we’re thinking.”

“ _Then you need to get him out as soon as possible._ ”

“Wh-why? What’s gonna happen if we don’t?”

“ _The bat is coated in a wolfs bane based ointment. Virtually harmless in small doses, but prolonged exposure could not just slow, but stop healing for as long as there’s contact. Eventually, Scott could go into shock._ ” Melissa took a sharp intake of breath, tears brimming in her eyes as the Sheriff took her hand in his. Isaac set his hands on either side of the phone, Dean bristling as the kid touched his car, and spoke in a low, determined voice.

“What’s the best way for us to track them?”

“ _Allison needs to focus on their pull._ ”

“What?” Allison asked, blinking in confusion. “What about me?”

 _"You’ve felt a sort of tug on your heart, haven’t you?_ ”

“Yea, we all have.”

“ _You’re feeling the force drawing the supernatural to you. It also connects you to each other and you could use that to track them down. Just focus on the pull and where it’s directing you._ ” Allison glanced to everyone in her company and nodded, before looking back down at the phone.

“Okay. How long should that take?”

“ _That depends on you._ ”

“Yea, and Sam could be dead by the time she’s done with this whole connection crap,” Dean spat, a fire in his eyes that made Castiel reach out and touch his elbow before he could stop himself. Dean looked down at where Castiel had touched before pulling his arm away just in time for Derek to grip Dean’s shoulders and turn him to glare menacingly into his eyes. If Castiel weren’t in the midst of fearing for Dean as well as Sam, he’d be hurt. Several cries of ‘Derek!’ fell on deaf ears as the wolf’s bright blue eyes bore into the man’s deep green.

“I getting tired of your attitude,” Derek growled as Dean slowly reached for the silver knife in his back pocket. “Stiles has been out there this whole time and now that it’s one of yours you start with the ‘we don’t have time’ bit? Allison is a capable girl, a capable hunter. If she believes she can find them, she’ll do it. So sit back and shut up, or I’ll become the monster you see me as. And this,” he grasped Dean’s wrist and held it up, the blade glinting in the sun, “won’t be enough to stop me. Do I make myself clear?” Dean grit his teeth and glared into Derek’s eyes, and Castiel couldn’t tell which one looked more deadly.

“Transparent,” Dean finally said. Derek’s eyes faded to their usual hue before he straightened Dean’s coat collar and turned back to Allison.

“Find them.” Allison nodded, a little uncertainty in her eyes as she looked back to Derek. Clearly him standing up for her was a rare occurrence.

“I will.” She closed her eyes.

Now, they waited.


	10. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to post this earlier but I've been so busy lately with school. I'll still be pretty busy this next little while but I promise that I'm still working on this, don't worry. 
> 
> Anyway, here you go. Enjoy!
> 
> (Also I had this thing in mind before we learned more about Lydia's powers, so it's not exactly canon).

Allison stood where she had been when she’d first closed her eyes, Lydia by her side. Dean and Cas drew symbols on the ground for protection while Isaac and Derek spoke in hushed tones a little ways off. But Melissa hardly took notice as she leaned against the hood of her car, arms crossed and lost in thought. Her son was in danger, maybe even going into shock at that very moment. She wasn’t sure how this werewolf thing worked, what if his healing or whatever failed and he had an asthma attack?

“Mels?” Melissa sniffed and wiped a tear from her face.

“I know what you’re gonna ask. And no, I’m not okay.” The Sheriff leaned beside her and crossed his arms. They stayed that way for a while. Melissa tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and hummed.

“You know, the first time I saw what he’d become, I was so scared. Not of him, but… I don’t know. The worst worry I had was that he’d have an asthma attack alone or he’d that fail chemistry. When I first saw him like that, with fangs and those eyes, I was afraid of what he’d gotten himself into. And the worst part is I can’t protect him from any of it. I couldn’t even protect him when he was _right next to me_. The one time he was supposed to be safe and he becomes a target. God, he’s only a teenager. He doesn’t deserve this.” She felt an arm wrap around her and she leaned into her boyfriend’s touch.

“I know,” he murmured into her ear, “none of them do.”

“I miss him. Both of them. So much.”

“I do too.” Melissa sniffed again and the two sat, listening but not listening to the sounds around them. “God, look at us. Our kids are gone, Scott could be going into shock this very moment, and we’re just sitting here? Tell me you see something fundamentally wrong with this.”

“The entire situation is wrong. But we’ve done everything we can for now. It’s better to just sit here than drive ourselves to insanity while we wait to be useful again.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, turning back to him. He sighed.

“I had to put out a missing persons on my son, then send my team to search a totally unrelated area to keep them safe and keep the supernatural under wraps, which not only goes against my code of ethics and as an officer of the law, but also costs us manpower in finding my son. I think it’s safe to say a delusion, even if selfish, is warranted.” Melissa felt a small smile quirk at her lips.

“And you’d be the expert on warrants, _Sheriff_.” He smiled and she leaned back into his embrace. He kissed the top of her head softly and stroked her arm with his thumb.

“Don’t worry, Mels. We’ll get them back.” She nodded, returning his lie with one of her own.

“I know.”

 

 

Allison stood where she had been when she’d first closed her eyes, Lydia by her side. Dean and Cas drew symbols on the ground for protection while Melissa and the Sheriff leaned against the hood of Melissa’s car. Meanwhile Derek kicked at the ground, lost in a whirling sea of thoughts and feelings. He was somewhere between worry for the safety of Stiles and Scott, and the confused relief he felt at the Sheriff’s words. _I don’t blame you_.

“Derek?” Isaac asked softly as he approached. “Are you okay?” Now that was the question.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think any of us are.” Isaac nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“You’re worried about Stiles.” Derek rolled his eyes.

“Wow, I can’t see how Lydia’s top of the class with your genius over here.”

“No,” Isaac shook his head. “Not worried like you are about Scott. I know you’re scared for him too, but it’s not the same, is it? Scott you’re worried for as a brother. But with Stiles–”

“What are you getting at Lahey?” Derek asked, straightening up and crossing his arms. Instinct told him to be the dominant beta, but Isaac held firm.

“I notice people. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my whole life being invisible, but I do. I notice their interactions.”

“Your point?”

“Scott may think you don’t care, but I know. That’s why you’ve been pushing him away. You can’t risk being close to anyone, much less someone human.” Derek felt like clocking the kid. He was just cutting too close to the quick.

“Yea, and a hell of a lot of good that did.”

“Hey, I get it. Trust me, I know how it feels. Caring about other people,” he clarified at Derek’s puzzlement. “Wanting to be with them. Wanting to keep them safe. Wanting to call them ‘home’.” Derek felt some of his defensiveness ease away.

“The McCall’s?” Isaac gave a hollow chuckle, looking briefly over his shoulder at Melissa before turning sad eyes back to Derek.

“Yea, and a hell of a lot of good I did.”

“We’ll find Scott,” Derek rested a supportive hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Isaac said with a grin, “and don’t worry. We’ll find Stiles too.” Derek nodded.

“We’d better.”

 

 

Allison stood where she had been when she’d first closed her eyes, Lydia by her side. Derek and Isaac spoke in hushed tones a little ways off while Melissa and the Sheriff leaned against the hood of Melissa’s car. Castiel finished the last Anasazi protection symbol in the dirt. With a grunt he pushed himself back to his feet and brushed the dirt off his knees.

“Alright,” Dean said, clapping dust off his hands as he approached and looking everywhere but Castiel’s face it seemed. “That side’s taken care of. Why don’t we, you keep guard on that side and I’ll take this side. Just in case.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, finally earning the man’s direct eye contact. Dean was definitely not okay. “You’re not okay.”

“No, Cas, I’m not. Sammy’s gone, okay? He was taken by some crazy ass cannibal, which probably already ate him and this kid. I don’t care what that crazy ass emissary says. So no, Cas, I’m too freaking far from okay!” Castiel started when Dean’s voice rose halfway through his speech. He lowered his gaze, summoned his courage, and looked up again.

“Dean, we can get Sam–“

“Don’t you start with this platitude crap too,” Dean cut him off. “I don’t need you telling me everything’s gonna be okay. I’m a soldier. I don’t need to be coddled like some weak-ass civilian.”

“Dean–“

“You know, he shouldn’t have even been out here in the first place. We’re not completely sure he’s healed from those damn trials, and now he’s as good as dead. I told you both to stay out of this, and let me handle it and now… now we’re screwed.” Hurt and anger swirled in Castiel. Why was Dean acting like this? They should be working together to get Sam back safely. _Maybe it’s because it’s your fault_ , a small voice whispered, _maybe you were wrong about being able to help Dean. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to you back at the motel when you said you and Sam could help._

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you shouldn’t have listened to me back in the motel.”

“Yea, maybe you’re right.” And that hurt more than Castiel ever thought those words could. He’d felt pain like this as an angel, but as a human with actual human emotion? Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and then let his hand fall back to his hip.

“Look, man, things are just really, and I mean _really_ , messed up right now.  Between Sam, freaking werewolves, and uh, whatever’s going on here– I just–“ Dean took a moment before continuing, “Look, uh. After this is all done and we get Sam… I don’t– maybe it’s best if we don’t see each other for a little bit.” The words echoed in Castiel’s mind, leaving him confused and a little nauseated.

“You want to be… not with me?”

“No, it’s not–” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. This was clearly difficult for him, but that did nothing in easing Castiel’s heartache. Dean’s hand fell to his side. “I just need some time alone. There’s something– something I have to deal with, and I can’t deal with it with you with, uh, with me.”

“So, where do I go?”

“You can stay at the bunker with Garth and Kevin. I’ll go on cases. We just need some space for me to figure some stuff out. Once I handle that, we can go right back to how we were. Okay?” Castiel swallowed past the block in his throat and blinked watery eyes.

“And Sam? What about him?” Dean sighed and dropped his gaze to the ground.

“We’ll worry about getting him back first, then we’ll deal.”

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it my fault?” Dean flinched.

“Cas, I don’t exactly know what’s going on. Y’know, things haven’t exactly been normal since we found you Grace-less and all this started. It’s been… weird and I have to sort through that. But it’s not on you.” Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Dean gestured to the other side of the protection circle.

“Anyway, I’m gonna stand guard on that side. Just in case.”

“Yea, I’ll stay here,” Castiel nodded again, Dean smiling awkwardly in return before crossing to the other side of the circle. Lydia was wrong. There was no world on fire. There was only ice.

 

 

Derek and Isaac spoke in hushed tones a little ways off while Melissa and the Sheriff leaned against the hood of Melissa’s car, and Dean and Cas stood guard at the edges of the protection circle. Allison kept her eyes closed but nothing had changed since she’d started. It was already past two, and still nothing.

“Any luck?” Lydia asked for what seemed like the thousandth time, but was really only they sixth. Allison huffed and opened her eyes.

“Nothing. Deaton said I should have been able to find them and still, nothing.” Lydia hummed.

“I can’t get anything either. Which should be a good thing considering what usually happens to people after I scream. Still, I guess this means I need more training than I thought.” Allison laughed sardonically.

“I feel like screaming right about now.” Lydia pursed her lips thoughtfully before moving in front of Allison and taking her hands. Allison raised her eyebrows.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you’re echoing my power, right? Maybe if I try using mine to track them down, it’ll decrease delay and might make any return you get more understandable. Or make it louder at least.”

“Decrease delay?”

“I know how sound echoes work. Supernatural wailing with echoes, not so much.” Allison sighed.

“Okay, so we just focus?” Lydia closed her eyes.

“I guess.” Allison nodded and followed Lydia’s lead, focusing on Scott and Stiles. Focusing on the pull in her heart. Sounds drowned out around her while her chest started to constrict. Her heart felt like it was being pulled out of her chest and it pained to the point she wanted to cry out.

Something snapped. Suddenly she felt detached from her body and there was a connection, like a dark aura bonding her to the boys. She could see them in muted blues within her mind, but at the same time she could see the trail to find them like they were superimposed over each other. She knew where they were. She could sense another presence. They were in danger. The wendigo wasn’t far and it was only a matter of time before it closed in on them.

“ALLISON!”

She gasped and found herself lying on the ground, her father kneeling over her while Isaac and Lydia stood above, Lydia massaging her own hands as if she were in pain. Allison looked back to her relieved father and pushed herself up.

“We have to get to them. Now.”

 

 

Stinging. Stinging. Stinging. _Burning._ Scott groaned, gently tilting his face upwards as he opened his eyes. It was dark, very dark. Why…? 

He tried moving his hands, soon realizing they were bound behind him. He was lying on stone, uneven floor, with something hard running up the entire length of his back and under his shirts. It felt like fire compared to the cold rock beneath him. What was…? A bat? 

_Stiles’ bat... Stiles!_

“St- Stiles?” Scott choked as he tried to shift, only able to do more than change his eyes. He was in a cave. Tunnels branched off in twists and turns and he was completely alone. Well at least he could see. “Stiles?” he called out more forcefully. If what he thought happened happened, this was not good. The echo reverberated back wasn’t his. 

“Scott?” 

“Stiles,” Scott called out in relief, a stupid smile growing on his face, “Aw man, you have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice right now.”

“Yea, good to hear you too, bud,” Stiles’ voice echoed back.

“I thought we might've been too late. We were all out looking for you.”

“So Sam tells me.”

“Wait, the wendigo got Sam too?”

“Hey, Scott,” Sam called back.

“Oh, uh, hey.”

“Okay, great,” Stiles interjected, “Now that we all know who’s here, you okay there Scott? Can you move?”

“Uh,” Scott shifted his position but couldn’t do more than wiggle uselessly. “Not really. I think I’m tied to your bat.”

“Aw man, I was afraid of that. Listen, Scott, I need you to get untied as soon as possible. Preferably before the bat sends you into shock, or before the wendigo comes back, or before you have an asthma attack.”

“Okay, how am I supposed to do that? I can’t turn.”

“Come on, Scott. You’re a True Alpha. You broke a mountain ash circle. You can do this.” Scott closed his eyes and focused on the shift. He felt the energy, the urge, but it was like there was a wall he couldn’t push past. He was stuck and as hard as he tried, he just couldn’t do it.

“Stiles, this isn’t working. I can’t.”

“Scott, come on, man. I’m counting on ya. Sam and I really need your help if we’re get out of here.”

“Dude, pressuring me isn’t gonna make it any easier. Kinda the opposite actually.”

“Okay, well, sorry my motivational tactics aren’t up to snuff at the moment but we’re really pressed for time, alright?” Scott was quickly growing irritated with Stiles’ tone.

“Just give me a minute.” Anger, focused anger. He focused, groaning as he felt his nails grow slowly and painfully into claws.

“Come on, Scott.” Growling. Scott was growling when his claws reached their full length and he quickly sliced the ropes that bound his hands. Once he felt give, he grabbed the bat, yanked it out the bottom of his shirt, and flung it as far from himself as possible. He was barely aware of the clang of metal on rock or the blood trickling down his wrists while he cried out in agony as the claws retreated.

“Scott? SCOTT?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed, gasping for breath and beyond thankful that the burning metal was finally gone. “Just… just need a… a second.”

“Told’ja you could do it.” Scott could hear the smile in his voice and just laughed.

“Yea, thanks.”

“Hey, no problem. Bros for life, right?”

“Right.”

“Now would you mind getting us down from here? I don’t have any feeling left in my arms and it’s really disconcerting.”

“Yea,” said Sam, “ _That’s_ what’s disconcerting about this whole thing.”

“Alright,” Scott said, getting shakily to his feet, “I’ll find you, and I’ll get you down."


	11. Tunnels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I realized a major plot hole and had to scramble to fix it. But anyway, here you go :)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my brother, in honour of his birthday and reaching the legal drinking age. Now he can drink wine and pretend to be in an Italian gangster flick with the approval of the law

“Alright,” Chris said as he paced, “Here’s how it’s gonna go–“

“Uh, hi,” Dean stepped in, blocking Chris’ path. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this was our hunt first. We tracked this thing down here, so it only makes sense that we’re the ones to come up with a plan to stop it.” Lydia rolled her eyes from her spot kneeling beside a seated Allison. Typical male power trip. It didn’t matter if they were wolves or humans, there had to be an alpha. Chris straightened his posture and crossed his arms.

“Our territory, our call. It’s two of ours in there and only one of yours, and the sooner we sort this out, the sooner we get them out.” Dean considered this a moment and stepped aside reluctantly. Chris continued.

“Derek and Isaac will go on ahead. They’ve got quicker reflexes and not likely to be potential targets. Stilinski,” he turned to the Sheriff, “you, me, and these two,” he gestured to Dean and Cas, “will be the firepower. Lydia, how confident are you in using Allison’s crossbow?”

“What?” Allison nearly shouted in disbelief.

“Allison, you nearly fainted when you tried to get up,” Chris said carefully, sympathetically. “You’re in no condition to go in guns hot, especially with some thing after you.”

“Are you saying that as a strategist or as a father? Even disoriented, I’m still the best marksperson in this pack!” She rolled her eyes at Dean’s expression, “This group. Besides, if I’m there, I can draw its attention long enough for someone else to get a clear shot!” Chris sighed and shook his head.

 “I’m not gonna risk a valuable team member because she thinks the needs of the mission outweigh the needs of herself.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly, continuing only after Allison nodded in reluctant understanding. “Melissa will stay with you in case you need medical attention.” Melissa nodded reluctantly, clearly wanting nothing more than to run after her son but knowing where she was needed most.

“Speaking of staying,” Dean said, coughing awkwardly, “Cas should stay behind too.” Cas turned to him, aghast.

“Dean–“

“Someone needs to stay behind and keep guard. These symbols may ward it off, but there’s no telling what the wendigo will do if it’s set on getting this girl. You need to stay here and keep them safe.” Cas settled his hands on his hips. After silent staring competition with Dean, he sighed.

“Fine, I’ll stay.” Lydia glanced between the two and turned to Chris.

“I’ll stay too. I still have to improve my bow work.” Chris nodded.

“Then it’s settled. Let’s roll out.”

 

 

Scott gasped for breath as he shuffled down the dark tunnel, leaning heavily against the jagged, rocky walls. After that stint with the bat, he felt exhausted and weak. The slashes he’d inadvertently dug into his wrists weren’t helping and definitely weren’t healing. Thankfully they were only superficial.

“You okay, Scott?” Stiles’ concerned voice echoed through the tunnel.

“Yea,” Scott huffed, “yea just keep talking… it’ll make it easier to find you.”

“Okay, uh, what should I say?”

“Talk about something… anything.”

“Alright, uh… I got nothing.”

“Dude, seriously? Again?”

“Hey, you know I’m no good on the spot. I’m blanking out over here, you got anything, Legolas?” Sam’s sigh echoed

“You know my name isn’t really ‘Greenleaf’. You don’t have to call me Legolas.”

“Hey, it’s not every day you meet someone claiming to be an elf from Middle Earth. I’m gonna milk this for all I can. I just wish you’d gone with a Star Wars alias. Way cooler.” Sam snickered.

“Hey, don’t ask me. Dean came up with them.”

“I wonder if he and my dad bonded over their mutual love of Lord of the Rings. I really hope not. It’d make the ‘which is better’ debate a little harder if he’s got new arguments.”

“You argue with your dad over nerd movies?”

“A tradition as old as the franchises themselves. I mean it’s never serious because they both rock out loud, but hey, fun’s fun. Ain’t that the truth, Legolas?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Hey Scott, you almost here?”

“Yea,” Scott grinned from right behind Stiles, making him jump and swing, “here.”

“Oh god, dude, seriously?”

“Hey, you wanted me to find you,” Scott reached up and fumbled with the knots binding Stiles’ too icy hands. “God, what, was this thing in scouts? Why are these knots so tight?”

“I uh, may have accidentally tightened them in my attempts to loosen, them. Can you not–” Scott’s wrist brushed against Stiles’ forearm “dude are you bleeding?”

“Uh, yea a bit.”

“Aw, crap. You okay?”

“Yea, dude, come on. It’s me. I’ll be good once this stuff wears–“ Stiles fell to the floor with a shout “oh hey, there we go.” Stiles groaned.

“Ah man, dude. That was painful as hell. I think I cracked my skull.” Scott made his way to Sam and started undoing his knots as Stiles clumsily stood.

“We’d better get out of here soon. There’s no telling when this thing’s getting back.”

“Probably in the next little bit. It seems to come and go in regular intervals with new victims.” Sam fell to the ground with much more grace than Stiles, groaning with relief as he rubbed his wrists.

“Then let’s get out of here. I’m really not interested in becoming a wendigo’s dinner.”

 

 

Castiel circled the cars for the twelfth time as he stared at the gravel beneath his feet. He was miserable. He knew things were changing with Dean, and now he knew that it was the last thing he wanted. He’d take the friendship. He’d treasure and cherish the friendship. He’d watch Dean fall for girl after girl and keep the pain it caused him secret. But Dean pushing him away? That was nearly as scary as the wendigo.

“You think they’re out of earshot?” Castiel jumped and turned to see Lydia walking a few paces behind him. Lydia raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Sorry.” Castiel nodded. He really wasn’t doing a good job keeping guard if she could sneak up so easily, which only made him feel worse.

“It’s fine,” he said, slowing so Lydia could catch up. “What do you mean?” Lydia looked at him as if it were supposed to be obvious.

“Well we can’t follow them if they hear us coming, now can we? I doubt the wolves would rat us out if they heard us. Two more means a larger search and rescue team.”

“But Dean said–“

“Forget Dean,” Lydia said, gently grabbing his arm to make him stop. “I know he’s hurting you by acting this way, but you can’t let it get to you.” Castiel shook his head slowly. He used to be a soldier of heaven, now what was he? He’d let the angels fall. He’d lost his Grace. He was losing Dean. Lydia gave an annoyed huff.

 “Okay, clearly you won’t come if we don’t resolve this. Listen to me, it’s obvious he cares about you, but he’s got some serious issues to work through, and that’s the result of hateful brainwashing. It has nothing to do with you.” Castiel swallowed a lump in his throat and glanced down.

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. What you need to do is force him to take his head out of his ass and see that you’re more than he’s making you out to be.” Castiel glanced skyward, considering her words. The problem was that Dean told him to stay back.

“I have to stay here for protection.”

“I thought that’s what the symbols were for,” Melissa called from her position beside Allison, who now sat leaning against the side of the Impala with her knees tucked into her chest. Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“Are you suggesting I join their hunting party?”

“I’m suggesting you go find my son,” Melissa stood and crossed her arms. “I don’t care what kind of drama’s going on, but they can’t argue you being there if they’re busy hunting that thing. The more people looking out for my boys, the better.”

“Are you certain you’ll be okay on your own?” Melissa leveled him with a cool gaze.

“Look, if it were up to me, I’d be storming in there and tearing everything apart to get Scott out, but I can’t in good conscience leave Allison alone when she can barely stand without swaying.” Allison rolled her eyes and Melissa continued, “Besides, I was married to an FBI agent, and now I’m dating a cop. You really don’t think I know my way around a gun?” Castiel gazed back at her thoughtfully. Scott was lucky to have someone so fiercely loving as Melissa for a mother.

“Scott’s lucky to have you as a mother.” Melissa smiled.

“Bring my baby home so I can remind him of that.” Lydia smiled and turned to Allison.

“You’ll be okay if I go?”

“Yea,” Allison shook her head. “If I can’t go, someone should. Just, bring them back safe.” Lydia nodded and turned to Castiel.

“Now that that’s settled,” she smiled dangerously. “Let’s catch ourselves a wendigo.”

 

 

After a few feet, Scott fell to the ground wheezing. His chest was painfully tight and his face was on fire. He could barely draw enough breath to keep himself conscious and it was getting darker so that he couldn’t see. The panic made it all the worse.

“Whoa, whoa, Scott!” Stiles fell clumsily to his side in an instant, supporting Scott with a hand on his back and shoulder.

“I–“ Scott tried to speak, “I can’t– Iuh– I can’t breathe–“ Sam knelt by Scott’s opposite shoulder, sounding concerned though Scott couldn’t see him in the dark anymore.

“What’s happening to him?”

“With his healing impaired, his asthma is acting up,” Stiles explained quickly before directing his attention back to Scott. “Okay, Scott, it’s gonna be okay. Do you have your inhaler?” Scott furrowed his brow. What?

“No– I– Why would I–?“

“Dude, are you kidding me? Okay, never mind. Listen, everything is going to be fine. Just try to breathe with me, okay? In,” he inhaled, waiting for Scott to do the same, “and out,” he exhaled with Scott. They repeated this a few more times before Scott had calmed down enough to breathe on his own, though his vision hadn’t returned and now his hearing was as it had been while he was human. What was on that bat? Stiles squeezed his friend’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Better?” Scott shook his head.

“Not really,” he coughed. “My senses are dulled back to a human level. I can’t see a thing.”

“Crap, okay. We gotta get you outta here. Sam, do you think you can carry him?” Shuffling suggested Sam had moved to kneel in front of Scott.

“Yea, here. Help get him onto my shoulders.” A moment of confused scrabbling later, Scott was riding piggyback on the hunter, arms wrapped not-too-tightly around Sam’s neck. This was a pretty weird experience, even forgetting that he was a werewolf and the man had pulled a gun on his best friend just yesterday.

“Okay, Scott,” Sam adjusted his grip. “Where to?”

“Um,” Scott thought, remembering where the light gradient had been best, “forward thirty feet? And then turn left. I’m not sure where we go after that.” Sam nodded, hair brushing Scott’s face, and blindly followed the directions. A few paces behind, there was a thump and Stiles cried out in pain.

“Stiles?” Scott gasped worriedly as Sam stopped.

“I’m fine. Just tripped– oh hey, my bat!”

“Dude, seriously?”

“Hey, you know how much this bat cost?” Stiles was up they started walking again. “Like twenty bucks plus shipping on eBay. Not to mention the cost of all that stuff to imbue it with magical anti-werewolf properties.”

“Yea, I’m familiar with those imbued properties.” A growl echoed through the caves. A low, menacing, _hungry_ growl that made Scott’s skin crawl. The silence that followed weighed heavily in the musty air as the presence of something moved closer. They’d wandered into the wendigo’s den.

 

 

Derek stared that the cave opening. It was virtually hidden in the rocky hillside so that the only way to see it was from right where Derek was standing. He’d run past this spot countless times, how hadn’t he seen it? Just last night, he’d passed it. He’d run right past Stiles and never realized.

“Derek?” Isaac asked tentatively from his side.

“It’s funny,” Derek said monotonously.

“What is?” A beat, and Derek exhaled.

“Peter. He always joked about a series of underground tunnels. I never thought there was any stock in what he said.” Isaac nodded as the human members of their party came up behind.

“What’s the hold up?” Dean asked as he strutted up to Derek’s other side, making him tense. “Aren’t we going in?” Derek nodded.

“Follow us, and keep close.” They’d only made it a few yards before it was too dark for human eyes and flashlights were pulled out. A few yards after that, they came to a fork in the road.

“Damn,” Dean cursed, flitting light over the entrance of the three tunnels branching off, each one less appealing than the last. What was worse, there was no distinct scent path. Derek growled.

“We have to split up.”

“How?” the Sheriff asked, fear and panic rolling off him, “We split into three groups, one of us is off alone. I don’t like those odds.” Derek shook his head.

“We’re in this thing’s territory, it won’t leave if it thinks it can trap us here. If we split into two groups, one can search while the other distracts and kills the wendigo.”

“An expert on wendigos now?” Dean asked skeptically.

“An expert on territorial mentality,” Derek responded coolly. “If I’m wrong, please, correct me.” Dean raised his hands, but didn’t say a word. Derek turned back to the tunnels. “We’ll take the middle. Chris, Sheriff, and Isaac take the right.”

“You know you’re not my alpha anymore,” Isaac rolled his eyes, but complied. Sheriff wished both Derek and Dean a final, albeit worried “good luck” before following Isaac and Chris down the tunnel.

“So, what, you used to be an alpha?” Dean asked as they started off into the darkness. Derek quelled the flare of anger as soon as it arose at the hunter’s question. He’d have to talk to Isaac about discretion.

“Is now really the best time to make friends?”

“Fine, whatever,” Dean said, turning the light from one side of the tunnel to the other. “Don’t say I didn’t at least try to make nice.” Derek glared sidelong at the man but said no more, instead focusing on listening for Stiles and the others. He could hear whispering, but the sound was too quiet and between the wind and the echoes, it was near impossible to determine an exact location. He could hear wheezing, but from where, he didn’t know.

There was a loud growl up ahead and Derek froze.

 

 

“Sam, get Scott out of here,” Stiles said in a shaky voice, raising his bat with numb hands.

“What?”

“No!” Stiles licked his lips and adjusted his hold, steeling his resolve.

“Get him out of here, now.” Stiles stepped forward, hoping he was somewhere between the wendigo and the others.

“Stiles,” Scott pleaded, panic and asthma wreaking havoc on his voice, “No. You’re human, it’ll tear you apart!”

“Scott, we don’ have time to argue, okay?” Stiles rushed, “You need help and Sam could be eaten, so in the name of our friendship–“

A force collided with him and it was all he could do to jam the bat in the thing’s mouth like a bit before they hit the floor. It was snarling and its heavy weight crushed him into the ground, strong hands crushing his shoulders. Hot air ghosted over Stiles’ face, reeking of death and carnage. He gagged on the stench as he fought to keep the thing at bay.

“ST-ILES!” Scott choked.

“GO!” Stiles shouted in a desperate rage. Finally, Sam took off running, Scott shouting, and somehow finding the tunnel. At least, Stiles assumed they did. He was more focused on keeping himself in tact. He kicked up under it, knocking the wendigo off him. A short reprieve was all he had before its claws scraped over his chest and dug into his shoulder, then again over his stomach and into his side.

The next few moments were a blur of terror and burning agony as he swung the bat back up, hitting something hard. His own name echoed in his head, and he jumped to his feet and swung again, nearly toppling over when he hit nothing. _Where the hell did it go?_

Someone was calling his name and there was something in front of him. A blinding, piercing light his eyes burned like someone stuck him with a hot iron. He swung the bat again, hitting the source to the ground where it cursed like a sailor. It wasn’t until he felt someone securely pin his arms to his side that he realized he’d been screaming and the voice echoing in his mind was coming from right in front of him.

“Stiles! Stiles, it’s okay! You’re okay.” Stiles sobbed and let the bat fall from his hand.

“D-Derek?”

 


	12. Light 'em Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing my essay but then I accidentally wrote the next chapter instead. I couldn't stop. If there are any inconsistencies or mistakes, please let me know. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)
> 
> EDIT
> 
> (Also the next chapter may be the last one)

“Melissa?” Allison asked carefully. Melissa broke out of her reverie, letting her hand drop from its place at her lips and looking over to Allison.

“Oh, Allison honey, sorry. Is everything alright?”

“You tell me. You’ve been sitting like that since Lydia and the guy left.” Melissa shook her head. Things were so damn far from alright, it was making her sick. She was so consumed and overwhelmed with so many emotions that she felt numb to it all. She felt all the fear, grief, and pain, but it was like she was detached from it all the same. She took a sharp intake of breath.

“It’s just– so completely ridiculous. I’m his mother! I should be worrying about him doing the same crap I did at his age, not– not _this._ Whatever _this_ is. God, I feel so useless!” She huffed, calming herself.

“How are you kids doing it?” her voice sounded soft, even to her own ears, “How are you surviving this complete shit-storm?” Allison’s lips twitched.

“It doesn’t feel that way sometimes,” she said, adjusting her position against the car. “We’re still alive, but sometimes it’s like we’re just wandering around in the dark and behind every corner there’s something waiting to destroy us. Sometimes it’s too much to handle and someone gets hurt.” Melissa brought her legs closer to her chest and rested her elbows on her knees, fidgeting with her fingers.

“What do you do then?”

“What else can we do?” Allison stared ahead, face blank, “We keep fighting. We owe it to each other to get through whatever’s trying to take us down. Even in a world of werewolves, wendigos, and echoes, we have solidarity. We’ve all been through so much, but I think that just shows how strong we are. And knowing what we’ve overcome, what we’ve survived, I think that’s what helps us carry on. We know we can count on ourselves and each other to live so we can smile again.” Allison breathed laugh and grinned, turning back to Melissa, “And we can count on them to bring the boys back.” Melissa smiled, crossing her arms on top of her knees.

“Thanks, Allison.”

“No problem.”

“You know, usually I’m the voice of wisdom in times like this. But I think I needed someone to be that for me.” She looked down at her knees, “I just want to see my boys smiles again.” She could see Allison nod in her periphery.

“Yea, me too.”  A moment of silence. “So, what crap did you do at our age?” Melissa shook her head laughing and brushed away a tear.

“Nothing I want you telling Scott about.”

 

Derek adjusted his hold on Stiles’ trembling body as Stiles pressed his face into the crook of Derek’s neck and wrapped his arms tightly around his body like the failure to do so would be the greatest mistake he could ever make. For one brief moment Derek was completely dumbstruck. He’d found him. He finally had Stiles back. The elation that overwhelmed him disappeared in the instant he felt warm blood seep onto his shirt and smell the panicked, pained terror rolling off Stiles. They had to get out. Before he could speak, Dean groaned in pain and stood up from where Stiles had knocked him down, rubbing his cheek where the bat left a blossoming bruise.

“Damn,” Dean waved the flashlight around in desperation, frantically searching. Light fell over six tunnels, the three seeming to be the ones that led back to the entrance and the others likely led deeper underground. Dean turned back to Derek and Stiles, thankfully keeping the light aimed at the ground instead of near Stiles’ face.

“Where the hell did it go?” he stepped forward and shook Stiles’ uninjured shoulder a little too roughly, making Stiles whimper and Derek seethe. Dean immediately took his hand back and asked more gently, “Where’s Sam?” Stiles pressed his face harder into Derek, blocking any more light from his eyes.

“Ran with Scott. We have to find them, we have to find them now.”

“Ran? Ran where?”

“Down– down a tunnel. We came out the one on the right, so they should have gone down the closest one to the left of it.” Dean glanced back to the tunnel they had come from, then to the one lying between that and the one Stiles said. Dean was gone in seconds, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the dark. Stiles wept into Derek’s shirt as Derek gently ran his thumb over the nape of Stiles’ neck and kept an ear out for approaching threats.

“Derek, you have to go after them. Scott can’t– the wendigo–“ Derek shushed him softly, the gentleness seeming to surprise Stiles just a little.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Footfalls echoed through the cavern as Isaac fell from tunnel, followed shortly by Chris and the Sheriff with flashlights raised and guns at the ready. Stiles whimpered and pressed painfully further into Derek’s neck.

“Aim the lights away,” Derek commanded. “It’s too bright for him.” Chris did as Derek asked, but the Sheriff instead turned his off completely and tentatively walked towards them as though he wanted to run to them but too scared to be any closer.

“Stiles?” he whispered, stopping at half the distance he was when he’d started. At his Dad’s voice, Stiles looked over in his direction.

“Dad?” The Sheriff sighed a laugh, tears of a completely different kind threatening to fall from his eyes as the man visible let go of the tension he’d been holding since he’d first stepped out of the cruiser to find he son missing. Isaac stepped forward.

“Where’s Scott?” Derek nodded to the tunnel Dean had disappeared in and Isaac was gone. Chris approached where they stood and nodded.

“You two get him out of here, I’ll help Isaac take this thing down.” Derek fought the panic at the thought of his former beta being alone with three hunters and Scott unable to defend himself, but agreed. Chris had proven he could be trustworthy, and he really couldn’t leave Stiles now. Not now.

 

 

Sam shut his eyes tight as he ran down the tunnel as he tried to block out the sounds of Stiles’ screams and Scott’s demands that they turn back. His jacket was torn at the elbow where he’d run it against the tunnel wall and every sharp protrusion of rock bumped and jarred painfully against his skin, but it was still better than running blindly without any clue of where he was going.

“Sam, please,” Scott begged. “We can’t– we can’t leave him back there– _Please!_ ”

“Sorry, kid,” Sam said against the strain of running. “He won’t accept our help anyway.”

“He’s my– best friend!” Sam said nothing, but opened his eyes as the screams died down, then stopped. He felt Scott look behind them. “Stiles…” Sam sped up, having realized he’d slowed down.

“I’m sorry, really.” Sam rounded a corner and stumbled. His head felt disconnected from his body while his heart fluttered and pounded. What was–?

“Sam!” Scott shouted as Sam fell to his knees and greedily sucked in air with a hand to his heart. Scott scrambled off his back and rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “What’s– happening?” Sam shook his head.

“I dunno. Never happened before.” God was he dizzy. It was like his heart was a sputtering car engine, beating too shallow at times and too forcefully at others but always too fast. It hurt. He didn’t understand. He never exerted himself like this before, what… _the trials_. They’d messed him up more than he’d thought. There was something approaching behind them, and he didn’t have to see to know what it was.

 

 

Chris disappeared down the tunnel, taking the light with him, and the Sheriff crossed over the rest of the distance to where Derek stood with Stiles still in his arms. The pursuit of the wendigo echoed through the air, falling on deaf ears.

“We have to move fast,” Derek said, reaching an arm out to let the Sheriff know when he’d reached them. “The wendigo clawed him pretty bad.” The Sheriff nodded.

“Here, you get his left side, I’ll take his right.” As they were getting into position, Stiles swayed and almost fell had it not been for their quick reflexes.

 “Son?”

“You okay?”

“Yea,” Stiles said, wincing and standing straighter, an arm over his dad's shoulder and one over Derek's, “just a little woozy.” His legs buckled beneath him and the only thing keeping him upright was their support.

“Stiles?” The Sheriff rested a hand on Stiles’ chest taking it back when it was coated in blood, panicked by how much there was.

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled, “maybe really woozy.” The Sheriff looked up in Derek’s general direction with terror etched on his face. Derek pulled Stiles toward him while the Sheriff let Stiles’ arm fall. Lifting Stiles up with one arm under his knees and the other supporting his upper back, Derek held him as carefully as possible. He’d already lost a lot of blood.

“We’ll get him out faster if I carry him.”

“Mm…,” Stiles rested his head against Derek’s shoulder. “You do care.” Derek’s breath caught in his chest, then he set his jaw and rushed for the tunnel he’d come down, likely the shortest one.

“We’re getting you out of here.”

 

 

“SAM!” Dean’s voice echoed as he chased down the tunnel after the monster, light bouncing ahead of him with every stride. That thing had way too good a head start and was far too alive. There was a low growl around the corner.

“Get away from him!” Scott’s shout echoed, and Dean’s legs pumped all the faster. He turned a corner to see the wendigo, towering and terrible with sickly skin and enormous clawed hands at the end of his long yet deceivingly strong arms, with his back to him. Scott stood defensively between the horrible creature and where Sam knelt gasping, struggling for breath himself.

Before Dean could so much as breathe, the wendigo spun and swiped at him, scratching Dean’s hands and effectively knocking the flare gun and his flashlight from his hands. Dean reached into his belt for his knife, but the creature collided with him, knocking him to the ground and twisting his ankle in the process as Sam shouted, “DEAN!”

The wendigo ducked its head but didn’t have a chance to bite down when Isaac barreled around the corner and crashed into it, stomping painfully on Dean’s stomach in the process. Dean grunted, swallowed back bile, and scrambled around for the gun. Why did it have to be so damn dark? Something flew past him and the sounds of Chris and Isaac’s bodies colliding and grunts of pain, then the sound of them crumpling to the floor. There was a presence beside him and the wendigo growled.

There was a light. A swish. The wending staggered away from Dean. Breaking glass. A flash. The wendigo was engulfed in flames and screaming. Dean whipped his head to see Lydia and Cas, expressions hard as they stood there in the flickering orange firelight, crossbow and gun raised respectively. It was like something out of a sexy action movie. Then Cas met Dean’s gaze.

 

 

Castiel took a sharp breath when he and Dean’s eyes met. He didn’t know how Dean would react, but at the moment, it seemed like Dean wasn’t sure himself. Sighing, Castiel walked over to where Dean sat, taking in the scene as he went while Lydia tended to Scott.

Sam looked up with disbelief while Scott seemed confused and more than a little worried by Lydia’s presence. Or at least, he was confused that Lydia was holding the crossbow. Melissa did say it belonged to Allison. Maybe he thought something happened to her. Isaac was just staring while Chris lay unconscious. When he stopped and looked down at Dean, it was to see he was glaring up at him. Castiel gripped Dean’s arm tightly and helped him rise to his feet. As soon as he was up, leaning heavily to one side, Dean directed his attention to Sam.

“You okay?”

“Yea, yea. Still dizzy, but I’m fine.”

“Now you’re sure?”

“Yea, whatever it was passed,” Sam said and Dean whipped his head back to Castiel, “Dean–“

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked dangerously. “You could have been killed, how did you even find us?” Castiel swallowed nervously, but stood his ground, staring defiantly up at the Righteous Man. 

“We followed the trail to the cave, then at the tunnels, we followed the sound of your voice when you called out to Sam.” He didn’t mention how he had run blindly into the tunnel, barely managing to raise the flashlight in time for Lydia to shoot the disarming arrow. Or how he had thrown the Molotov cocktail and shot it with the flare gun. Or how for the first time since he was human, he felt like himself. He didn't feel so helpless anymore.

“I thought I told you to stay back.”

“If I had, you’d be dead. I couldn’t let that happen, Dean.”

“Cas–“

“No, Dean, you listen,” Castiel interrupted, and Dean blinked in surprise. Castiel was a little surprised himself, but he didn't stop. He needed to say this. “In the past twenty four hours, I have been subjugated to condescension, belittlement, and hurtful words, all at your hands. I may be new to humanity, but since the fall I have never given you cause to treat me this way. I’ve always come when you called, and I’ve given you everything.” Dean looked down guiltily.

“Cas, I–“

“I know you’re in conflict with yourself,” Castiel said more softly, “and I don’t expect a definitive answer. At least not now. Just know that I will never stop caring for you. I will always be there for you and Sam. But I need to know if you feel the same way. You say we’re family, but if you’re going to try and push me away again, I don’t know how long I can believe that we are.” Castiel would never forget the look in Dean’s eyes. The hurt, the guilt, and the vulnerability intermingled, and Castiel’s breath was taken away. How was it that God had created someone who looked so beautiful even in distress?

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean choked. “I’ve been a real piece ‘a work. I could blame it on whatever, but it doesn’t excuse the way I acted. I was being selfish, and you’re right. You deserve better. You’ve always deserved better.” Castiel just stared at Dean. He’d said the same thing about him. Dean continued, “If there’s any way I can make it up to–“

Castiel gripped the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him down, smashing their lips together. For four heart-stopping seconds, Dean did nothing and Castiel panicked. Was this a mistake? But then Dean kissed him back. Tentative and cautious at first, like he wasn’t sure he should, but then deepened he cupped the back of Castiel’s head with one and snaked the other around his waist, pulling him in.

It wasn’t a desperate kiss, but it had an urgency to it that made them never want to let go, like they had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning and were finally making up for lost time. There, in the firelight, Castiel’s world light up.

“Um,” Sam coughed awkwardly, “I'm really happy for you guys, and I hate to break this up, but we should get out of here. Everyone else is leaving.”

 

 

Melissa was fretfully pacing the circle when she’d first heard the _crack!_ of tree branches. She looked up to see Isaac supporting Chris, who was bleeding from the head but was conscious. She looked to Isaac.

“Where’s Scott?” Isaac swallowed nervously and Melissa feared the worst until she saw Lydia break through the tree line, Scott at her side with one arm draped over her shoulder as she held him upright. Melissa didn’t think, she just ran to her son’s side and helped Lydia bring him to the circle.

“What’s wrong with him? Did he have an asthma attack?”

“We think so,” said Lydia, “It started after he got rid of the bat.” They shrugged him gently off their shoulders and sat him down next to Allison, who turned to him with worry in her eyes. Scott’s breathing was labored and shallow. Melissa reached into her pocket and pulled out the inhaler she’d taken out of her purse for such an emergency, shook it, and held it out. Scott looked at her strangely as he took it.

“You–“ he breathed in the medication and began breathing a little easier, “still have this?” Melissa smiled and it was only then she’d realized she’d been crying. She ran a hand down the side of her son’s face, so many emotions overwhelming her, but this time she welcomed all of them. Relief, elation, love- she embraced all of it. She had her baby back, safe and relatively sound.

“A mother never stops worrying.”


End file.
